VOLUME    XX 
DRAMAS    OF   GOETHE 


'  zAnd  day  by  day  itpo7i  the  shore  I  stand ' 

Photogravure  from  the  painting  by  Fleuerbach 


3p})ig:enia  in  Cauris 

Corquato  CajSjSo 
c0oet?  ton  I3erlicl^mgen 


BY 


J.  W.  Von  Goethe 

Translated  by 

Anna  Swanwick  and  Sir  Walter  Scott 


Edited  by  Nathan  Haskell  Dole 


Boston    ^     Francis    A.    Niccolls 
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List   of  Illustrations 

PAGE 

"And  day  by  day  upom  the  shore  I  stand"  (Seepage  1) 

Frontispiece 
Iphigenia  and  Her  Brother  Orestes  ....  50 
"This  single  moment  is  enough  for  me"        .         .         .     115 

Tasso  in  Disgrace 225 

GoETz  Resists  Arrest         . 323 


Dramas  of  Goethe 


Iphigenia   in   Tauris 

A  Drama  in   Five  Acts 
Translated  by  Anna  Swanwick 


Like  Torquato  Tasso,  Iphigenia  was  originally  written  in 
prose,  and  in  that  form  was  acted  at  the  Weimar  Court  Theatre 
about  1779.     Goethe  himself  took  the  part  of  Orestes. 


Introduction 

The  drama  of  "  Iphigenia  in  Tauris  "  has  been  con- 
sidered Goethe's  masterpiece  :  it  is  conceived  in  the 
spirit  of  Greek  ideahty,  and  is  characterised  throughout 
by  moral  beauty  and  dignified  repose.  Schlegel  ^  styles 
it  an  echo  of  Greek  song,  an  epithet  as  appropriate  as  it 
is  elegant ;  for,  without  any  servile  imitation  of  classic 
models,  this  beautiful  drama,  through  the  medium  of 
its  polished  verse,  reproduces  in  softened  characters  the 
graceful  and  colossal  forms  of  the  antique.' 

The  destiny  of  Agamemnon  and  his  race  was  a  fa- 
vourite theme  of  the  ancients.  It  has  been  dramatised 
in  a  variety  of  forms  by  the  three  gi'eat  masters  of 
antiquity ;  and  from  these  various  sources  Goethe  has 
gathered  the  materials  for  his  drama,  enriching  it  with 
touches  of  sublimity  and  beauty  selected  indiscrimi- 
nately from  the  works  of  each.  The  description  of  the 
Furies  in  the  third  act  is  worthy  of  ^schylus,  and  in 
the  spirit  of  the  same  great  writer  is  the  exclusion  of 
these  terrific  powers  from  the  consecrated  grove  sym- 
bolical of  the  peace  which  religion  can  alone  afford  to 
the  anguish  of  a  wounded  conscience.  The  prominence 
given  to  the  idea  of  destiny,  together  with  the  finished 
beauty  of  the  whole,  reminds  us  of  Sophocles  ;  while 
the  passages  conveying  general  moral  truths,  scattered 
throughout  the  poem,  not  unfrequently  recall  to  our 
recollection  those  of  a  similar  character  in  the  dramas 
of  Euripides. 

The  two  dramas  of  Euripides  are  founded  upon  the 
well-known  story  of  Iphigenia.  In  the  "  Iphigenia  in 
1  "  Dramatic  Literatui'e, "  Bohn's  edition,  p.  518. 


4  INTRODUCTION 

Aulis,"  we  are  introduced  to  the  assembled  hosts  of 
Greece,  detained  by  contrary  wiads  in  consequence  of 
Diana's  anger  against  Agamemnon.  An  oracle  had 
declared  that  the  goddess  could  only  be  propitiated  by 
the  sacrifice  of  Iphigenia,  who  is  accordingly  allured 
with  her  mother  to  the  camp.  On  discovering  the 
fearful  doom  which  awaits  her,  she  is  at  first  over- 
whelmed with  grief.  She  implores  her  father  to  spare 
her  life,  endeavours  to  touch  his  heart  by  recalling  the 
fond  memories  of  bygone  times,  and  holds  up  her  in- 
fant brother,  Orestes,  that  he  may  plead  for  her  with  his 
tears.  Learning,  however,  that  the  glory  of  her  country 
depends  upon  her  death,  she  rises  superior  to  her  fears, 
subdues  her  womanly  weakness,  and  devotes  herself  a 
wilhng  sacrifice  for  Greece.  She  is  conducted  to  the 
altar :  the  sacred  garlands  are  bound  around  her  head. 
Calchas  lifts  the  knife  to  deal  the  fatal  stroke,  when 
Iphigenia  suddenly  vanishes,  and  a  hind  of  uncommon 
beauty  lies  bleeding  at  his  feet. 

In  the  "  Iphigenia  in  Tauris,"  our  heroine  reappears  in 
the  temple  of  Diana,  situated  in  the  Tauric  Chersonese, 
a  savage  region  washed  by  the  Euxine  Sea,  where, 
according  to  the  ancients,  all  strangers  were  sacrificed 
at  the  altar  of  Diana.  To  this  wild  shore  Iphigenia 
had  been  conveyed  by  the  pitying  goddess ;  and  there, 
in  her  character  of  priestess,  she  presided  over  the 
bloody  rites  of  the  barbarians.  The  incidents  in  this 
drama  have  been  adopted  by  Goethe  as  the  ground- 
work of  his  poem,  the  chief  interest  in  which,  as  in  the 
drama  of  Euripides,  turns  upon  the  departure  of  Iphige- 
nia and  Orestes  from  the  Taurian  shore.  A  brief  out- 
line of  the  Grecian  drama  will  show  in  what  particulars 
the  modern  poet  has  adhered  to  his  classic  model,  and 
where  he  has  deviated  from  it. 

The  scene  of  both  is  in  the  vicinity  of  the  temple  of 
Diana.  In  the  opening  soliloquy  of  the  Grecian  drama, 
Iphigenia,  after  lamenting  her  unhappy  destiny,  relates 


INTRODUCTION  5 

her  dream  of  the  previous  night,  from  which  she  infers 
the  death  of  Orestes.  She  determines  to  offer  a  hba- 
tion  to  his  memory  ;  and,  wliile  engaged  in  performing 
this  pious  rite,  she  is  informed  that  two  strangers  have 
been  captured  on  the  shore,  for  whose  sacrifice  she  is 
commanded  to  prepare.  Orestes  and  Pylades  are 
shortly  after  introduced ;  and  learning  from  the  former 
that  he  is  a  native  of  Argos,  she  offers  to  spare  his  life 
provided  he  will  carry  a  letter  for  her  to  Myceue.  He 
refuses  to  abandon  his  friend ;  Pylades  is  equally  dis- 
interested ;  a  generous  contest  ensues ;  and  the  latter, 
yielding  at  length  to  the  entreaties  of  Orestes,  consents 
to  accept  life  on  the  proposed  conditions.  The  letter 
addressed  to  Orestes  is  produced,  and  Iphigenia  dis- 
covers her  brother  in  the  intended  victim.  They 
anxiously  consider  how  they  may  escape;  and  Iphi- 
genia suggests,  that,  in  her  character  of  priestess,  she 
lead  them,  together  with  the  image  of  Diana,  to  the 
sea,  there  to  be  purified  in  the  ocean  waves,  where  they 
may  find  safety  in  the  attendant  bark.  With  all  the 
wily  sublety  of  a  Greek,  she  imposes  upon  the  credulity 
of  the  barbarian  monarch,  and  induces  him,  not  only  to 
sanction  her  project,  but  to  assist  in  its  execution, 
which  she  at  length  successfully  achieves.  In  this 
drama,  Iphigenia,  though  exhibiting  some  noble  traits, 
offends  us  by  her  unscrupulous  violation  of  the  truth,  and 
by  the  cunning  artifice  which  Goethe,  with  admirable 
art,  has  attributed  to  Pylades.  We  are  the  more  dis- 
pleased with  this  portrait,  because  we  are  unwilling  to 
recognise  in  the  crafty  priestess  the  innocent  victim 
who  so  strongly  awakens  our  sympathy  in  the  beauti- 
ful drama  of  "Iphigenia  in  Aulis."  In  the  Iphigenia 
of  Goethe,  on  the  contrary,  we  discover  with  pleasure 
the  same  filial  tenderness,  and  the  same  touching  mix- 
ture of  timidity  and  courage,  which  characterised  that 
interesting  heroine. 

In  the  drama  of  Euripides  we  are  chiefly  interested 


6  INTRODUCTION 

in  the  generous  friendship  of  Orestes  and  Pylades ;  in 
that  of  Goethe  the  character  of  Iphigenia  constitutes 
the  chief  charm,  and  awakens  our  warmest  sympathy. 
While  contemplating  her,  we  feel  as  if  some  exquisite 
statue  of  Grecian  art  had  become  animated  by  a  hving 
soul,  and  moved  and  breathed  before  us:  though  ex- 
hibiting the  severe  simphcity  which  characterises  the 
creations  of  antiquity,  she  is  far  removed  from  all  cold- 
ness and  austerity ;  and  her  character,  though  cast  in  a 
classic  mould,  is  free  from  that  harsh  and  vindictive 
spirit  which  darkened  the  heroism  of  those  barbarous 
times  when  religion  lent  her  sanction  to  hatred  and 


^is'- 


revenge. 


The  docility  with  which,  in  opposition  to  her  own 
feelings,  she  at  first  consents  to  the  stratagem  of  Pyla- 
des, though  apparently  inconsistent  with  her  rever- 
ence for  truth,  is  in  reality  a  beautiful  and  touching 
trait.  The  conflict  in  her  mind  between  intense  anxiety 
for  her  brother's  safety,  and  detestation  of  the  artifice 
by  which  alone  she  thinks  it  can  be  secured,  amounts 
almost  to  agony :  in  her  extremity  she  calls  upon  the 
gods,  and  implores  them  to  save  their  image  in  her 
soul.  The  struggle  finally  subsides :  she  remains  faith- 
ful to  her  high  convictions,  reveals  the  project  of  es- 
cape, and  thus  saves  her  soul  from  treachery.  From 
the  commencement  of  the  fifth  act  she  assumes  a  calm 
and  lofty  tone,  as  if  feeling  the  inspiration  of  a  noble 
purpose.  The  dignity  and  determination  with  which 
she  opposes  the  cruel  project  of  the  barbarian  king, 
remind  us  of  the  similar  qualities  displayed  by  the 
Antigone  of  Sophocles,  who  is  perhaps  the  noblest  her- 
oine of  antiquity.  Thus,  when  called  upon  by  the  king 
to  reverence  the  law,  Iphigenia  appeals  to  that  law 
written  in  the  heart,  more  ancient  and  more  sacred  than 
the  ordinances  of  man ;  and  Antigone,  when,  by  the 
interment  of  her  brother  Polynices,  she  has  incurred 
the  anger  of  the  tyrant  Creon  and  become  subjected  to 


INTRODUCTION  7 

a  cruel  death,  justifies  herself  by  an  appeal  to  the  same 
sacred  authority. 

The  remaining  characters  of  the  drama,  though  sub- 
ordinate to  the  central  figure,  are  in  admirable  keeping 
with  it ;  the  poet  having  softened  down  the  harsh  fea- 
tures of  the  barbarians,  so  as  not  to  form  too  abrupt  a 
contrast  with  the  more  polished  Greeks,  and  thereby 
interfere  with  the  harmony  of  the  piece.  The  colossal 
figures  of  the  Titans  appearing  in  the  background,  and 
the  dread  power  of  Destiny  overarching  all,  impart  a 
character  of  solemn  grandeur  to  the  whole. 


Dramatis  Personas 

Iphigenia.  .  Orestes. 

Thoas,  King  of  the  Taurians.  Pylades. 

Arkas. 


Iphigenia  in   Tauris 


ACT   I. 

Scene   I.  —  A  Grove  before  the  Temple  of  Diana. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Beneath  your  leafy  gloom,  ye  waving  boughs 
Of  this  old,  shady,  consecrated  grove. 
As  in  the  goddess'  silent  sanctuary, 
With  the  same  shuddering  feeling  forth  I  step, 
As  when  I  trod  it  first ;  nor  ever  here 
Doth  my  unquiet  spirit  feel  at  home. 
Long  as  a  higher  will,  to  which  I  bow, 
Hath  kept  me  here  concealed,  still,  as  at  first, 
I  feel  myself  a  stranger.     For  the  sea 
Doth  sever  me,  alas  !  from  those  I  love  : 
And  day  by  day  upon  the  shore  I  stand, 
The  land  of  Hellas  seeking  with  my  soul ; 
But,  to  my  sighs,  the  hollow-sounding  waves 
Bring,  save  their  own  hoarse  murmurs,  no  reply. 
Alas  for  him  !  who,  friendless  and  alone, 
Kemote  from  parents  and  from  brethren  dwells : 
From  him  grief  snatches  every  coming  joy 
Ere  it  doth  reach  his  hp.     His  yearning  thoughts 
Throng  back  for  ever  to  his  father's  halls, 
Where  first  to  him  the  radiant  sun  unclosed 

9 


lo  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

The  gates  of  heaven  ;  where  closer,  day  by  day, 
Brothers  and  sisters,  leagued  in  pastime  sweet. 
Around  each  other  twined  love's  tender  bonds. 
I  will  not  reckon  with  the  gods ;  yet  truly 
Deserving  of  lament  is  woman's  lot. 
Man  rules  alike  at  home  and  in  the  field. 
Nor  is  in  foreign  chmes  without  resource : 
Him  conquest  crowneth,  him  possession  gladdens, 
And  him  an  honourable  death  awaits. 
How  circumscribed  is  woman's  destiny  ! 
Obedience  to  a  harsh,  imperious  lord. 
Her  duty  and  her  comfort :  sad  her  fate, 
Whom  hostile  fortune  drives  to  lands  remote  ! 
Thus  Thoas  holds  me  here,  a  noble  man. 
Bound  with  a  heavy  though  a  sacred  chain. 
Oh,  how  it  shames  me,  goddess,  to  confess 
That  with  repugnance  I  perform  these  rites 
For  thee,  divine  protectress  !  unto  whom 
I  would  in  freedom  dedicate  my  life. 
In  thee,  Diana,  I  have  always  hoped ; 
And  still  I  hope  in  thee,  who  didst  infold 
Within  the  holy  shelter  of  thine  arm 
The  outcast  daughter  of  the  mighty  king. 
Daughter  of  Jove !  hast  thou  from  ruined  Troy 
Led  back  in  triumph  to  his  native  land 
The  mighty  man,  whom  thou  didst  sore  afflict. 
His  daughter's  life  in  sacrifice  demanding, — 
Hast  thou  for  him,  the  godlike  Agamemnon, 
Wlio  to  thine  altar  led  his  darliug  child. 
Preserved  his  wife,  Electra,  and  his  son. 
His  dearest  treasures  ?  —  then  at  length  restore 
Thy  supphant  also  to  her  friends  and  home, 
And  save  her,  as  thou  once  from  death  didst  save, 
So  now,  from  living  here,  a  second  death. 


IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS  n 


Scene   II.  —  IrniGENiA,  Arkas. 

ARKAS. 

The  king  hath  sent  me  hither,  bade  me  greet 
With  hail,  and  fair  salute,  Diana's  priestess. 
For  new  and  wondrous  conquest,  this  the  day, 
When  to  her  goddess  Tauris  renders  thanks. 
I  hasten  on  before  the  king  and  host. 
Himself  to  herald,  and  its  near  approach. 

IPHIGENIA. 

We  are  prepared  to  give  them  worthy  greeting : 
Our  goddess  doth  behold  with  gracious  eye 
The  welcome  sacrifice  from  Thoas'  hand. 

ARKAS. 

Would  that  I  also  found  the  priestess'  eye. 

Much  honoured,  much  revered  one,  found  thine  eye, 

0  consecrated  maid,  more  calm,  more  bright. 

To  all  a  happy  omen  !     Still  doth  grief. 

With  gloom  mysterious,  shroud  thy  inner  mind : 

Vainly,  through  many  a  tedious  year,  we  wait 

For  one  confiding  utterance  from  thy  breast. 

Long  as  I've  known  thee  in  this  holy  place. 

That  look  of  thine  hath  ever  made  me  shudder ; 

And,  as  with  iron  bands,  thy  soul  remains 

Locked  in  the  deep  recesses  of  thy  breast. 

IPHIGENIA. 

As  doth  become  the  exile  and  the  orphan. 

ARKAS. 

Dost  thou,  then,  here  seem  exiled  and  an  orphan  ? 


12  IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS 

IPHIGENIA. 
Can  foreign  scenes  our  fatherland  replace  ? 

AEKAS. 

Thy  fatherland  is  foreign  now  to  thee. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Hence  is  it  that  my  bleeding  heart  ne'er  heals. 
In  early  youth,  when  first  my  soul,  in  love. 
Held  father,  mother,  brethren  fondly  twined, 
A  group  of  tender  germs,  in  union  sweet, 
We  sprang  in  beauty  from  the  parent  stem. 
And  heavenward  grew  :  alas !  a  foreign  curse 
Then  seized  and  severed  me  from  those  I  loved. 
And  wrenched  with  iron  grasp  the  beauteous  bands. 
It  vanished  then,  the  fairest  charm  of  youth, 
The  simple  gladness  of  life's  early  dawn ; 
Though  saved,  I  was  a  shadow  of  myself. 
And  life's  fresh  joyance  blooms  in  me  no  more. 

ARKAS. 

If  thou  wilt  ever  call  thyself  unblest, 
I  must  accuse  thee  of  ingratitude. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Thanks  have  you  ever. 

ARKAS. 

Not  the  honest  thanks 
Which  prompt  the  heart  to  offices  of  love  ; 
The  joyous  glance,  revealing  to  the  host 
A  grateful  spirit,  with  its  lot  content. 
When  thee  a  deep  mysterious  destiny 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  13 

Brought  to  this  sacred  fane,  long  years  ago, 
To  greet  thee,  as  a  treasure  sent  from  heaven, 
With  reverence  and  affection,  Thoas  came. 
Benign  and  friendly  was  this  shore  to  thee. 
To  every  stranger  else  with  horror  fraught ; 
For,  till  thy  coming,  none  e'er  trod  our  realm 
But  fell,  according  to  an  ancient  rite, 
A  bloody  victim  at  Diana's  shrine. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Freely  to  breathe  alone  is  not  to  live. 
Say,  is  it  life,  within  this  holy  fane, 
Like  a  poor  ghost  around  its  sepulchre 
To  linger  out  my  days  ?     Or  call  you  that 
A  life  of  conscious  happiness  and  joy. 
When  every  hour,  dreamed  hstlessly  away, 
Still  leadeth  onward  to  those  gloomy  days 
Which  the  sad  troop  of  the  departed  spend 
In  self-forgetfulness  on  Lethe's  shore  ? 
A  useless  life  is  but  an  early  death : 
This  woman's  destiny  hath  still  been  mine. 

ARKAS. 

I  can  forgive,  though  I  must  needs  deplore, 

The  noble  pride  which  underrates  itself : 

It  robs  thee  of  the  happiness  of  life. 

But  hast  thou,  since  thy  coming  here,  done  nought  ? 

Who  hath  the  monarch's  gloomy  temper  cheered  ? 

Who  hath  with  gentle  eloquence  annulled, 

From  year  to  year,  the  usage  of  our  sires. 

By  which,  a  victim  at  Diana's  shrine. 

Each  stranger  perished,  thus  from  certain  death 

Sending  so  oft  the  rescued  captive  home  ? 

Hath  not  Diana,  harbouring  no  revenge 

For  this  suspension  of  her  bloody  rites. 

In  richest  measure  heard  thy  gentle  prayer  ? 


14  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

On  joyous  pinions  o'er  the  advancing  host, 

Doth  not  triumphant  conquest  proudly  soar  ? 

And  feels  not  every  one  a  happier  lot, 

Since  Thoas,  who  so  long  hath  guided  us 

With  w^isdom  and  with  valour,  swayed  by  thee, 

The  joy  of  mild  benignity  approves. 

Which  leads  him  to  relax  the  rigid  claims 

Of  mute  submission  ?     Call  thyself  useless !     Thou, 

When,  from  thy  being,  o'er  a  thousand  hearts, 

A  healing  balsam  flows  ?  when  to  a  race. 

To  whom  a  god  consigned  thee,  thou  dost  prove 

A  fountain  of  perpetual  happiness. 

And  from  this  dire,  inhospitable  coast. 

Dost  to  the  stranger  grant  a  safe  return  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

The  little  done  doth  vanish  to  the  mind 
Which  forward  sees  how  much  remains  to  do. 

AKKAS. 

Him  dost  thou  praise,  who  underrates  his  deeds  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Who  weigheth  his  own  deeds  is  justly  blamed. 

ARKAS. 

He  too,  real  worth  too  proudly  who  condemns. 
As  who,  too  vainly,  spurious  worth  o'errateth. 
Trust  me,  and  heed  the  counsel  of  a  man 
With  honest  zeal  devoted  to  thy  service : 
When  Thoas  comes  to-day  to  speak  with  thee. 
Lend  to  his  purposed  words  a  gracious  ear. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Thy  well-intentioned  counsel  troubles  me  : 
His  offer  I  have  ever  sought  to  shun. 


IPHIGENIA   IN   TAURIS  1$ 

AKKAS. 

Thy  duty  and  thy  interest  calmly  weigh. 
Sithence  King  Thoas  lost  his  son  and  heir, 
Among  his  followers  he  trusts  but  few, 
And  trusts  those  few  no  more  as  formerly. 
With  jealous  eye  he  views  each  noble's  son 
As  the  successor  of  his  realm :  he  dreads 
A  sohtary,  helpless  age  —  perchance 
Sudden  rebellion  and  untimely  death. 
A  Scythian  studies  not  the  rules  of  speech, 
And  least  of  all  the  king.     He  who  is  used 
To  act  and  to  command,  knows  not  the  art, 
From  far,  with  subtle  tact,  to  guide  discourse 
Through  many  windings  to  its  destined  goal. 
Thwart  not  his  purpose  by  a  cold  refusal, 
By  an  intended  misconception.     Meet, 
With  gracious  mien,  half-way  the  royal  wish. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Shall  I,  then,  speed  the  doom  that  threatens  me  ? 

ARKAS. 

His  gracious  offer  canst  thou  call  a  threat  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

'Tis  the  most  terrible  of  all  to  me. 

ARKAS. 

For  his  affection  grant  him  confidence. 

IPHIGENIA. 

If  he  will  first  redeem  my  soul  from  fear. 

ARKAS. 

Why  dost  thou  hide  from  him  thy  origin  ? 


i6  IPHIGENIA  IN   TAURIS 

IPHIGENIA. 

A  priestess  secrecy  doth  well  become. 

AEKAS. 

Nought  to  a  monarch  should  a  secret  be ; 
And,  though  he  doth  not  seek  to  fathom  thine, 
His  noble  nature  feels,  ay,  deeply  feels. 
That  thou  with  care  dost  hide  thyself  from  him. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Ill-will  and  anger  harbours  he  against  me  ? 

AKKAS. 

Almost  it  seems  so.     True,  he  speaks  not  of  thee ; 
But  casual  words  have  taught  me  that  the  wish 
Thee  to  possess  hath  firmly  seized  his  soul : 
Oh,  leave  him  not  a  prey  unto  himself. 
Lest  his  displeasure,  ripening  in  his  breast. 
Should  work  thee  woe,  so  with  repentance  thou 
Too  late  my  faithful  counsel  shalt  recall ! 

IPHIGENIA. 

How !  doth  the  monarch  purpose  what  no  man 
Of  noble  mind,  who  loves  his  honest  name, 
Whose  bosom  reverence  for  the  gods  restrains, 
Would  ever  think  of  ?     Will  he  force  employ 
To  drag  me  from  the  altar  to  his  bed  ? 
Then  will  I  call  the  gods,  and  chiefly  thee, 
Diana,  goddess  resolute,  to  aid  me : 
Thyself  a  virgin,  wilt  a  virgin  shield. 
And  to  thy  priestess  gladly  render  aid. 

AEKAS. 

Be  tranquil!     Passion,  and  youth's  fiery  blood. 
Impel  not  Thoas  rashly  to  commit 


IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS  17 

A  deed  so  lawless.     lu  his  present  mood, 
I  fear  from  him  another  harsh  resolve, 
Which  (for  his  soul  is  steadfast  and  unmoved) 
He  then  will  execute  without  delay. 
Therefore  I  pray  thee,  canst  thou  grant  no  more, 
At  least  be  grateful  —  give  thy  confidence. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Oh,  tell  me  what  is  further  known  to  thee. 

AEKAS. 

Learn  it  from  him.     I  see  the  king  approach : 
Him  thou  dost  honour,  thine  own  heart  enjoins 
To  meet  him  kindly  and  with  confidence. 
A  man  of  noble  mind  may  oft  be  led 
By  woman's  gentle  word. 

IPHIGENIA  (alone). 

How  to  observe 
His  faithful  counsel  see  I  not  in  sooth. 
But  willingly  the  duty  I  perform 
Of  giving  thanks  for  benefits  received, 
And  much  I  wish  that  to  the  king  my  lips 
With  truth  could  utter  what  would  please  his  ear. 


Scene  III.  —  Iphigenia,  Thoas. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Her  royal  gifts  the  goddess  shower  on  thee, 
Imparting  conquest,  wealth,  and  high  renown, 
Dominion,  and  the  welfare  of  thy  house ; 
With  the  fullfilment  of  each  pious  wish. 
That  thou,  whose  sway  for  multitudes  provides, 
Thyself  mayest  be  supreme  in  happiness ! 


i8  IPHIGENIA  IN   TAURIS 

TIIOAS. 

Contented  were  I  with  my  people's  praise  ; 

My  conquests  others  more  than  I  enjoy. 

Oh !  be  he  king  or  subject,  he's  most  blest, 

Whose  happiness  is  centred  in  his  home. 

My  deep  affliction  thou  didst  share  with  me 

What  time,  in  war's  encounter,  the  fell  sword 

Tore  from  my  side  my  last,  my  dearest  son : 

So  long  as  fierce  revenge  possessed  my  heart, 

I  did  not  feel  my  dwelling's  dreary  void ; 

But  now,  returning  home,  my  rage  appeased. 

Their  kingdom  wasted,  and  my  son  avenged, 

I  find  there  nothing  left  to  comfort  me. 

The  glad  obedience  I  was  wont  to  see 

Kindling  in  every  eye,  is  smothered  now 

In  discontent  and  gloom :  each,  pondering,  weighs 

The  changes  which  a  future  day  may  bring, 

And  serves  the  childless  king  because  he  must. 

To-day  I  come  within  this  sacred  fane. 

Which  I  have  often  entered  to  implore 

And  thank  the  gods  for  conquest.     In  my  breast 

I  bear  an  old  and  fondly  cherished  wish, 

To  which  methinks  thou  canst  not  be  a  stranger  : 

I  hope,  a  blessing  to  myself  and  realm. 

To  lead  thee  to  my  dwelhng  as  my  bride. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Too  great  thine  offer,  king,  to  one  unknown : 
Abashed  the  fugitive  before  thee  stands. 
Who  on  this  shore  sought  only  what  thou  gavest,  - 
Safety  and  peace. 

THOAS. 

Thus  still  to  shroud  thyself 
From  me,  as  from  the  lowest,  in  the  veil 
Of  mystery  which  wrapped  thy  coming  here. 
Would  in  no  country  be  deemed  just  or  right. 


IPHIGENIA   IN   TAURIS  19 

Strangers  this  shore  appalled :  'twas  so  ordained, 
Alike  by  law  and  stern  necessity. 
From  thee  alone,  —  a  kindly  welcomed  guest, 
Who  hast  enjoyed  each  hallowed  privilege, 
And  spent  thy  days  in  freedom  unrestrained,  — 
From  thee  I  hoped  that  confidence  to  gain 
Which  every  faithful  host  may  justly  claim. 

IPHIGENIA. 

If  I  concealed,  O  king !  my  name,  my  race. 
It  was  embarrassment,  and  not  mistrust. 
For  didst  thou  know  who  stands  before  thee  now. 
And  what  accursed  head  thine  arm  protects, 
Strange  horror  would  possess  thy  mighty  heart ; 
And,  far  from  wishing  me  to  share  thy  throne, 
Thou,  ere  the  time  appointed,  from  thy  realm 
Wouldst   banish   me ;  wouldst    thrust    me    forth,  per 

chance. 
Before  a  glad  reunion  with  my  friends 
And  period  to  my  wanderings  is  ordained. 
To  meet  that  sorrow,  which,  in  every  clime. 
With  cold,  inhospitable,  fearful  hand, 
Awaits  the  outcast,  exiled  from  his  home. 

THOAS. 

Whate'er  respecting  thee  the  gods  decree, 

Whate'er  their  doom  for  thee  and  for  thy  house. 

Since  thou  hast  dwelt  amongst  us,  and  enjoyed 

The  privilege  the  pious  stranger  claims, 

To  me  hath  failed  no  blessing  sent  from  heaven ; 

And  to  persuade  me,  that  protecting  thee 

I  shield  a  guilty  head,  were  hard  indeed. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Thy  bounty,  not  the  guest,  draws  blessings  down. 


20  IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS 

THOAS. 

The  kindness  shown  the  wicked  is  not  blest. 
End,  then,  thy  silence,  priestess :  not  unjust 
Is  he  who  doth  demand  it.     In  my  hands 
The  goddess  placed  thee ;  thou  hast  been  to  me 
As  sacred  as  to  her,  and  her  behest 
Shall  for  the  future  also  be  my  law  : 
If  thou  canst  hope  in  safety  to  return 
Back  to  thy  kindred,  I  renounce  my  claims ; 
But  is  thy  homeward  path  for  ever  closed, 
Or  doth  thy  race  in  hopeless  exile  rove. 
Or  lie  extinguished  by  some  mighty  woe. 
Then  may  I  claim  thee  by  more  laws  than  one. 
Speak  openly :  thou  knowest  I  keep  my  word. 


IPHIGENIA. 

Its  ancient  bands  reluctantly  my  tongue 
Doth  loose,  a  long-hid  secret  to  divulge, 
For  once  imparted,  it  resumes  no  more 
The  safe  asylum  of  the  inmost  heart. 
But  thenceforth,  as  the  Powers  above  decree, 
Doth  work  its  ministry  of  weal  or  woe. 
Attend  !  I  issue  from  the  Titan's  race. 


THOAS. 

A  word  momentous  calmly  hast  thou  spoken 

Him  namest  thou  ancestor  whom  all  the  world 

Knows  as  a  sometime  favourite  of  the  gods  ? 

Is  it  that  Tantalus,  whom  Jove  himself 

Drew  to  his  council  and  his  social  board  ? 

On  whose  experienced  words,  with  wisdom  fraught, 

As  on  the  language  of  an  oracle, 

E'en  gods  delighted  hung  ? 


IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS  21 

IPHIGENIA. 

'Tis  even  he : 
But  the  immortal  gods  with  mortal  men 
Should  not,  on  equal  terms,  hold  intercourse; 
For  all  too  feeble  is  the  human  race, 
Not  to  grow  dizzy  on  unwonted  heights. 
Ignoble  was  he  not,  and  no  betrayer ; 
To  be  the  Thunderer's  slave,  he  was  too  great ; 
To  be  his  friend  and  comrade,  —  but  a  man. 
His  crime  was  human,  and  their  doom  severe ; 
For  poets  sing,  that  treachery  and  pride 
Did  from  Jove's  table  hurl  him  headlong  down 
To  grovel  in  the  depths  of  Tartarus. 
Alas  !  and  his  whole  race  must  bear  their  hate. 


THOAS. 
Bear  they  their  own  guilt,  or  their  ancestor's  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

The  Titan's  mighty  breast  and  nervous  frame 

Was  his  descendants'  certain  heritage  ; 

But  round  their  brow  Jove  forged  a  band  of  brass. 

Wisdom  and  patience,  prudence  and  restraint. 

He  from  their  gloomy,  fearful  eye  concealed ; 

In  them  each  passion  grew  to  savage  rage. 

And  headlong  rushed  with  violence  unchecked. 

Already  Pelops,  Tantalus'  loved  son, 

Mighty  of  will,  obtained  his  beauteous  bride, 

Hippodamia,  child  of  GEnomaus, 

Through  treachery  and  murder :  she,  ere  long. 

To  glad  her  consort's  heart,  bare  him  two  sons, 

Thyest  and  Atreus.     They  with  envy  marked 

The  ever-growing  love  their  father  bare 

To  his  first-born,  sprung  from  another  union. 

Hate  leagued  the  pair ;  and  secretly  they  wrought, 


22  IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS 

In  fratricide,  the  first  dread  crime.     The  sire 
Hippodamia  held  as  murderess  : 
With  savage  rage  he  claimed  from  her  his  son, 
And  she  in  terror  did  destroy  herself  — 

THOAS. 

Thou'rt  silent  ?     Pause  not  in  thy  narrative, 
Repent  not  of  thy  confidence  —  say  on  ! 

IPHIGENIA. 

How  blest  is  he  who  his  progenitors 

With  pride  remembers,  to  the  listener  tells 

The  story  of  their  greatness,  of  their  deeds. 

And,  silently  rejoicing,  sees  liimself 

The  latest  link  of  this  illustrious  chain  ! 

For  seldom  does  the  self-same  stock  produce 

The  monster  and  the  demigod  :  a  Une 

Or  good  or  evil  ushers  in,  at  last. 

The  glory  or  the  terror  of  the  world.  — 

After  the  death  of  Pelops,  his  two  sons 

Euled  o'er  the  city  with  divided  sway. 

But  such  an  union  could  not  long  endure. 

His  brother's  honour  first  Thyestes  wounds. 

In  vengeance  Atreus  drove  him  from  the  realm. 

Thyestes,  planning  horrors,  long  before 

Had  stealthily  procured  his  brother's  son. 

Whom  he  in  secret  nurtured  as  his  own. 

Revenge  and  fury  in  his  breast  he  poured, 

Then  to  the  royal  city  sent  him  forth, 

That  in  his  uncle  he  might  slay  his  sire. 

The  meditated  murder  was  disclosed, 

And  by  the  king  most  cruelly  avenged. 

Who  slaughtered,  as  he  thought,  his  brother's  son. 

Too  late  he  learned  whose  dying  tortures  met 

His  drunken  gaze  ;  and,  seeking  to  assuage 

The  insatiate  vengeance  that  possessed  his  soul, 


IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS  23 

He  planned  a  deed  unheard  of.     He  assumed 

A  friendly  tone ;  seemed  reconciled,  appeased  ; 

And  lured  his  brother,  with  his  children  twain. 

Back  to  his  kingdom  ;  these  he  seized  and  slew. 

Then  placed  the  loathsome  and  abhorrent  food 

At  his  first  meal  before  the  unconscious  sire. 

And  when  Thyestes  had  his  hunger  stilled 

With  his  own  flesh,  a  sadness  seized  his  soul : 

He  for  his  children  asked,  —  their  steps,  their  voice, 

Fancied  he  heard  already  at  the  door ; 

And  Atreus,  grinning  with  malicious  joy, 

Threw  in  the  members  of  the  slaughtered  boys.  — 

Shuddering,  O  king,  thou  dost  avert  thy  face ! 

So  did  the  sun  his  radiant  visage  hide, 

And  swerve  his  chariot  from  the  eternal  path. 

These,  monarch,  are  thy  priestess'  ancestors ; 

And  many  a  dreadful  fate  of  mortal  doom. 

And  many  a  deed  of  the  bewildered  brain, 

Dark  night  doth  cover  with  her  sable  wing, 

Or  shroud  in  gloomy  twilight. 


THOAS. 

Hidden  there 
Let  them  abide.     A  truce  to  horror  now,  • 
And  tell  me  by  what  miracle  thou  sprangest 
From  race  so  savage. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Atreus'  eldest  son 
Was  Agamemnon,  —  he,  0  king,  my  sire  ! 
But  I  may  say  with  truth,  that,  from  a  child, 
In  him  the  model  of  a  perfect  man 
I  witnessed  ever.     Clytemnestra  bore 
To  him,  myself,  the  firstling  of  their  love, 
Electra  then.     Peaceful  the  monarch  ruled, 


24  IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS 

And  to  the  house  of  Tantalus  was  given 

A  long-withheld  repose.     A  son  alone 

Was  wanting  to  complete  my  parents'  bliss : 

Scarce  was  this  wish  fulfilled,  and  young  Orestes, 

The  household's  darling,  with  his  sisters  grew, 

When  new  misfortunes  vexed  our  ancient  house. 

To  you  hath  come  the  rumour  of  the  war. 

Which,  to  avenge  the  fairest  woman's  wrongs. 

The  force  united  of  the  Grecian  kings 

Round  Ihon's  walls  encamped.     Whether  the  town 

Was  humbled,  and  achieved  their  great  revenge, 

T  have  not  heard.      My  father  led  the  host. 

In  Aulis  vainly  for  a  favouring  gale 

They  waited ;  for,  enraged  against  their  chief, 

Diana  stayed  their  progress,  and  required. 

Through  Calchas'  voice,  the  monarch's  eldest  daughter. 

They  lured  me  with  my  mother  to  the  camp : 

They  dragged  me  to  the  altar,  and  this  head 

There  to  the  goddess  doomed.  —  She  was  appeased ; 

She  did  not  wish  my  blood,  and  shrouded  me 

In  a  protecting  cloud :  within  this  temple 

I  first  awakened  from  the  dream  of  death ; 

Yes,  I  myself  am  she,  Iphigenia, 

Grandchild  of  Atreus,  Agamemnon's  child, 

Diana's  priestess,  I  who  speak  with  thee. 


THOAS. 

I  yield  no  higher  honour  or  regard 
To  the  king's  daughter  than  the  maid  unknown 
Once  more  my  first  proposal  I  repeat ; 
Come,  follow  me,  and  share  what  I  possess. 

IPHIGENIA. 

How  dare  I  venture  such  a  step,  0  king  ? 
Hath  not  the  goddess  who  protected  me 


IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS  25 

*i 
Alone  a  right  to  my  devoted  head  ? 
'Twas  she  who  chose  for  me  this  sanctuary, 
Where  she  perchance  reserves  me  for  my  sire, 
By  my  apparent  death  enough  chastised, 
To  be  the  joy  and  solace  of  liis  age. 
Perchance  my  glad  return  is  near ;  and  how, 
If  I,  unmindful  of  her  purposes, 
Had  here  attached  myself  against  her  will  ? 
I  asked  a  signal,  did  she  wish  my  stay. 

THOAS. 

The  signal  is,  that  still  thou  tarriest  here. 
Seek  not  evasively  such  vain  pretexts. 
Not  many  words  are  needed  to  refuse, 
The  no  alone  is  heard  by  the  refused. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Mine  are  not  words  meant  only  to  deceive : 
I  have  to  thee  my  inmost  heart  revealed. 
And  doth  no  inward  voice  suggest  to  thee, 
How  I  with  yearning  soul  must  pine  to  see 
My  father,  mother,  and  my  long-lost  home  ? 
Oh,  let  thy  vessels  bear  me  thither,  king ! 
That  in  the  ancient  halls,  where  sorrow  still 
In  accents  low  doth  fondly  breathe  my  name, 
Joy,  as  in  welcome  of  a  new-born  child. 
May  round  the  columns  twine  the  fairest  wreath. 
New  life  thou  wouldst  to  me  and  mine  impart. 

THOAS. 

Then,  go !     Obey  the  promptings  of  thy  heart, 
And  to  the  voice  of  reason  and  good  counsel 
Close  thou  thine  ear.     Be  quite  the  woman,  give 
To  every  wish  the  rein,  that,  bridleless. 
May  seize  on  thee,  and  whirl  thee  here  and  there. 
When  burns  the  fire  of  passion  in  her  breast. 


26  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

No  sacred  tie  withholds  her  from  the  wretch 
Who  would  allure  her  to  forsake  for  him 
A  husband's  or  a  father's  guardian  arms ; 
Extinct  within  her  heart  its  fiery  glow, 
The  golden  tongue  of  eloquence  in  vain 
With  words  of  truth  and  power  assails  her  ear. 


IPHIGENIA. 

Eemember  now,  0  king,  thy  noble  words ! 
My  trust  and  candour  wilt  thou  thus  repay  ?  • 
Thou  seemest,  methinks,  prepared  to  hear  the  truth. 


THOAS. 

For  this  unlooked-for  answer  not  prepared. 
Yet  'twas  to  be  expected :  knew  I  not 
That  with  a  woman  I  had  now  to  deal  ? 


IPHIGENIA. 

Upbraid  not  thus,  0  king,  our  feeble  sex ! 

Though  not  in  dignity  to  match  with  yours, 

The  weapons  woman  wields  are  not  ignoble. 

And  trust  me,  Thoas,  in  thy  happiness 

I  have  a  deeper  insight  than  thyself. 

Thou  thiukest,  ignorant  alike  of  both, 

A  closer  union  would  augment  our  bliss ; 

Inspired  with  confidence  and  honest  zeal 

Thou  strongly  urgest  me  to  yield  consent : 

And  here  I  thank  the  gods,  who  give  me  strength 

To  shun  a  doom  unratified  by  them. 


THOAS. 

'Tis  not  a  god,  'tis  thine  own  heart,  that  speaks. 


IPHIGENIA   IN   TAURIS  27 

IPHIGENIA. 

'Tis  through  the  heart  alone  they  speak  to  us. 

THOAS. 

To  hear  them  have  I  not  an  equal  right  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

The  raging  tempest  drowns  the  still  small  voice. 

THOAS. 

This  voice  no  doubt  the  priestess  hears  alone. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Before  all  others  should  the  prince  attend  it. 

THOAS. 

Thy  sacred  office,  and  ancestral  right 

To  Jove's  own  table,  place  thee  with  the  gods 

In  closer  union  than  an  earth-born  savage. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Thus  must  I  now  the  confidence  atone 
Thyself  didst  wring  from  me  ! 

THOAS. 

I  am  a  man. 
And  better  'tis  we  end  this  conference. 
Hear,  then,  my  last  resolve.     Be  priestess  still 
Of  the  great  goddess  who  selected  thee ; 
And  may  she  pardon  me,  that  I  from  her, 
Unjustly,  and  with  secret  self-reproach, 
Her  ancient  sacrifice  so  long  withheld  ! 
From  olden  time  no  stranger  neared  our  shore 
But  fell  a  victim  at  her  sacred  shrine. 


28  IPHIGENIA   IN   TAURIS 

But  thou,  with  kiud  affection  (which  at  times 
Seemed  like  a  geutle  daughter's  tender  love, 
At  times  assumed  to  my  enraptured  heart 
The  modest  inclination  of  a  bride), 
Didst  so  enthrall  me,  as  with  magic  bonds, 
That  I  forgot  my  duty.     Thou  didst  rock 
My  senses  in  a  dream :  I  did  not  hear 
My  people's  murmurs  ;  now  they  cry  aloud, 
Ascribing  my  poor  son's  untimely  death 
To  this  my  guilt.     No  longer  for  thy  sake 
Will  I  oppose  the  wishes  of  the  crowd, 
Who  urgently  demand  the  sacrifice. 

IPHIGENIA. 

For  mine  own  sake  I  ne'er  desired  it  from  thee. 
Who  to  the  gods  ascribe  a  thirst  for  blood 
Do  misconceive  their  nature,  and  impute 
To  them  their  own  inhuman  dark  desires. 
Did  not  Diana  snatch  me  from  the  priest. 
Holding  my  service  dearer  than  my  death  ? 

THOAS. 

'Tis  not  for  us,  on  reason's  shifting  grounds, 

Lightly  to  guide  and  construe  rites  divine. 

Perform  thy  duty  :  I'll  accomplish  mine. 

Two  strangers,  whom  in  caverns  of  the  shore 

We  found  concealed,  and  whose  arrival  here 

Bodes  to  my  realm  no  good,  are  in  my  power. 

With  them  thy  goddess  may  once  more  resume 

Her  ancient,  pious,  long-suspended  rites  ! 

I  send  them  here,  —  thy  duty  not  unknown.         [Uxit. 

IPHIGENIA  (alone). 

Gracious  protectress  !  thou  hast  clouds 
To  shelter  innocence  distressed, 


IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS  29 

And  from  the  arms  of  iron  fate, 
Gently  to  waft  her  o'er  the  sea, 
O'er  the  wide  earth's  remotest  realms, 
Where'er  it  .seemeth  good  to  thee. 
Wise  art  thou,  —  thine  all-seeing  eye 
The  future  and  the  past  surveys : 
Thy  glance  doth  o'er  thy  children  rest, 
E'en  as  thy  light,  the  life  of  night, 
Keeps  o'er  the  earth  its  silent  watch. 
0  Goddess !  keep  my  hands  from  blood ! 
Blessing  it  never  brings,  and  peace  ; 
And  still  in  evil  hours  the  form 
Of  the  chance-nuirdered  man  appears 
To  fill  the  unwilling  murderer's  soul 
With  horrible  and  gloomy  fears. 
For  fondly  the  Immortals  view 
Man's  widely  scattered,  simple  race ; 
And  the  poor  mortal's  transient  life 
Gladly  prolong,  that  he  may  lift 
Awhile  to  their  eternal  heavens 
His  sympathetic  joyous  gaze. 


ACT   II. 

Scene  I.  —  Orestes,  Pylades. 

ORESTES. 

It  is  the  path  of  death  that  now  we  tread : 
At  every  step  my  soul  grows  more  serene. 
When  I  implored  Apollo  to  remove 
The  grisly  band  of  Furies  from  my  side. 
He  seemed,  with  hope-inspiring,  godlike  words, 
To  promise  aid  and  safety  in  the  fane 
Of  his  loved  sister,  who  o'er  Tauris  rules. 
Thus  the  prophetic  word  fulfils  itself, 


30  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

That  with  my  life  shall  terminate  my  woe. 

How  easy  'tis  for  me,  whose  heart  is  crushed, 

Wliose  sense  is  deadened  by  a  hand  divine, 

Thus  to  renounce  the  beauteous  light  of  day ! 

And  must  the  son  of  Atreus  not  entwine 

The  wreath  of  conquest  round  his  dying  brow  ? 

Must  I,  as  my  forefathers,  as  my  sire. 

Bleed  like  a  victim,  —  an  ignoble  death  ? 

So  be  it !     Better  at  the  altar  here. 

Than  in  a  nook  obscure,  where  kindred  hands 

Have  spread  assassination's  wily  net. 

Yield  me  this  brief  repose,  infernal  Powers ! 

Ye,  who,  hke  loosened  hounds,  still  scent  the  blood 

Which,  trickling  from  my  feet,  betrays  my  path. 

Leave  me !  ere  long  I  come  to  you  below. 

Nor  you,  nor  I,  should  view  the  hght  of  day. 

The  soft  green  carpet  of  the  beauteous  earth 

Is  no  arena  for  unhallowed  fiends. 

Below  I  seek  you,  where  an  equal  fate 

Binds  all  in  murky,  never-ending  night. 

Thee  only,  thee,  my  Pylades,  my  friend. 

The  guiltless  partner  of  my  crime  and  curse. 

Thee  am  I  loath,  before  thy  time,  to  take 

To  yonder  cheerless  shore !     Thy  life  or  death 

Alone  awakens  in  me  hope  or  fear. 


PYLADES. 

Like  thee,  Orestes,  I  am  not  prepared 
Downwards  to  wander  to  yon  realm  of  shade. 
I  purpose  still,  through  the  entangled  paths. 
Which  seem  as  they  would  lead  to  blackest  night, 
Again  to  wind  our  upward  way  to  life. 
Of  death  I  think  not :  I  observe  and  mark 
Whether  the  gods  may  not  perchance  present 
Means  and  fit  moment  for  a  joyful  flight. 
Dreaded  or  not,  the  stroke  of  death  must  come. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  31 

Aud  though  the  priestess  stood  with  hand  upraised, 

Prepared  to  cut  our  consecrated  locks, 

Our  safety  still  should  be  my  only  thought : 

Uplift  thy  soul  above  this  weak  despair ; 

Desponding  doubts  but  hasten  on  our  peril. 

Apollo  pledged  to  us  his  sacred  word. 

That  in  his  sister's  holy  fane  for  thee 

Were  comfort,  aid,  and  glad  return  prepared. 

The  words  of  Heaven  are  not  equivocal. 

As  in  despair  the  poor  oppressed  one  thinks. 


OKESTES. 

The  mystic  web  of  life  my  mother  cast 
Around  my  infant  head,  and  so  I  grew 
An  image  of  my  sire ;  and  my  mute  look 
Was  aye  a  bitter  and  a  keen  reproof 
To  her  and  base  ^gisthus.     Oh,  how  oft. 
When  silently  within  our  gloomy  hall 
Electra  sat,  and  mused  beside  the  fire, 
Have  I  with  anguished  spirit  climbed  her  knee. 
And  watched  her  bitter  tears  with  sad  amaze! 
Then  would  she  tell  me  of  our  noble  sire : 
How  much  I  longed  to  see  him  —  be  with  him  ! 
Myself  at  Troy  one  moment  fondly  wished, 
My  sire's  return  the  next.     The  day  arrived  — 


PYLADES. 

Oh,  of  that  awful  hour  let  fiends  of  hell 

Hold  nightly  converse  !     Of  a  time  more  fair 

May  the  remembrance  animate  our  hearts 

To  fresh  heroic  deeds.     The  gods  require 

On  this  wide  earth  the  service  of  the  good. 

To  work  their  pleasure.     Still  they  count  on  thee ; 

For  in  thy  father's  train  they  sent  thee  not. 

When  he  to  Orcus  went  unwilling  down. 


32  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

OHESTES. 

Would  I  had  seized  the  border  of  his  robe, 
And  followed  him ! 

PYLADES. 

They  kindly  cared  for  me 
Who  held  thee  here :  for,  hadst  thou  ceased  to  live, 
I  know  not  what  had  then  become  of  me ; 
Since  I  with  thee,  and  for  thy  sake  alone, 
Have  from  my  childhood  lived,  and  wish  to  live. 

ORESTES. 

Eemind  me  not  of  those  delightsome  days 
Wlien  me  thy  home  a  safe  asylum  gave : 
With  fond  solicitude  thy  noble  sire 
The  half-nipped  tender  floweret  gently  reared ; 
While  thou,  a  friend  and  playmate  always  gay, 
Like  to  a  light  and  brilhant  butterfly 
Around  a  dusky  flower,  didst  day  by  day 
Around  me  with  new  life  thy  gambols  urge. 
And  breathe  thy  joyous  spirit  in  my  soul, 
Until,  my  cares  forgetting,  I  with  thee 
Was  lured  to  snatch  the  eager  joys  of  youth. 

PYLADES. 

My  very  life  began  when  thee  I  loved. 

ORESTES. 

Say,  then  thy  woes  began,  and  thou  speakest  truly. 
This  is  the  sharpest  sorrow  of  my  lot, 
That,  like  a  plague-infected  wretch,  I  bear 
Death  and  destruction  hid  within  my  breast ; 
That,  where  I  tread,  e'en  on  the  healthiest  spot. 
Ere  long  the  blooming  faces  round  betray 
The  anguished  features  of  a  lingering  death. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  $$ 


PYLADES. 

Were  thy  breath  venom,  I  had  been  the  first 
To  die  that  death,  Orestes.     Am  I  not. 
As  ever,  full  of  courage  and  of  joy  ? 
And  love  and  courage  are  the  spirit's  wings 
Wafting  to  noble  actions. 

OKESTES. 

Noble  actions  ? 
Time  was,  when  fancy  painted  such  before  us ! 
When  oft,  the  game  pursuing,  on  we  roamed 
O'er  hill  and  valley ;  hoping,  that  ere  long. 
Like  our  great  ancestors  in  heart  and  hand, 
With  club  and  weapon  armed,  we  so  might  track 
The  robber  to  his  den,  or  monster  huge. 
And  then  at  twilight,  by  the  boundless  sea. 
Peaceful  we  sat,  reclined  against  each  other ; 
The  waves  came  dancing  to  our  very  feet. 
And  all  before  us  lay  the  wide,  wide  world ; 
Then  on  a  sudden  one  would  seize  his  sword, 
And  future  deeds  shone  round  us  like  the  stars. 
Which  gemmed  in  countless  throngs  the  vault  of  night. 

PYLADES. 

Endless,  my  friend,  the  projects  which  the  soul 
Burns  to  accomplish.     We  would  every  deed 
At  once  perform  as  grandly  as  it  shows 
After  long  ages,  when  from  land  to  land 
The  poet's  swelling  song  hath  rolled  it  on. 
It  sounds  so  lovely  what  our  fathers  did. 
When,  in  the  silent  evening-shade  reclined, 
We  drink  it  in  with  music's  melting  tones ; 
And  what  we  do  is,  as  their  deeds  to  them, 
Toilsome  and  incomplete ! 
Thus  we  pursue  what  always  flies  before : 
We  disregard  the  path  in  which  we  tread. 


34  IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS 

Scarce  see  around  the  footsteps  of  our  sires, 

Or  heed  the  trace  of  their  career  on  earth. 

We  ever  hasten  on  to  chase  their  shades, 

Which,  god-hke,  at  a  distance  far  remote, 

On  golden  clouds,  the  mountain  summits  crown. 

The  man  I  prize  not  who  esteems  himself 

Just  as  the  people's  breath  may  chance  to  raise  him. 

But  thou,  Orestes,  to  the  gods  give  thanks, 

That  they  through  thee  have  early  done  so  much. 


ORESTES. 

When  they  ordain  a  man  to  noble  deeds, 

To  shield  from  dire  calamity  his  friends, 

Extend  his  empire,  or  protect  its  bounds, 

Or  put  to  flight  its  ancient  enemies. 

Let  him  be  grateful  !     For  to  him  a  god 

Imparts  the  first,  the  sweetest,  joy  of  hfe. 

Me  have  they  doomed  to  be  a  slaughterer. 

To  be  an  honoured  mother's  murderer. 

And,  shamefully  a  deed  of  shame  avenging, 

Me  through  their  own  decree  they  have  o'erwhelmed. 

Trust  me,  the  race  of  Tantalus  is  doomed ; 

And  I,  his  last  descendant,  may  not  perish. 

Or  crowned  with  honour  or  unstained  by  crime. 


PYLADES. 

The  gods  avenge  not  on  the  son  the  deeds 
Done  by  their  father.     Each,  or  good  or  bad. 
Of  his  own  actions  reaps  the  due  reward. 
The  parents'  blessing,  not  their  curse,  descends. 


ORESTES. 

Methinks  their  blessing  did  not  lead  us  here. 


IPHIGENIA   IN   TAURIS  35 

TYLADES. 
It  was  at  least  the  mighty  gods'  decree. 

OKESTES. 

Then  is  it  their  decree  which  doth  destroy  us. 

PYLADES. 

Perform  what  they  command,  and  wait  the  event. 
Do  thou  Apollo's  sister  bear  from  hence, 
That  they  at  Delphi  may  united  dwell, 
There  by  a  noble-thoughted  race  revered ; 
Thee,  for  this  deed,  the  lofty  pair  will  view 
With  gracious  eye,  and  from  the  hateful  grasp 
Of  the  infernal  Powers  will  rescue  thee. 
E'en  now  none  dares  intrude  within  this  grove. 

OKESTES. 

So  shall  I  die  at  least  a  peaceful  death. 

PYLADES. 

Far  other  are  my  thoughts,  and  not  unskilled 
Have  I  the  future  and  the  past  combined 
In  quiet  meditation.     Long,  perchance. 
Hath  ripened  in  the  counsel  of  the  gods 
The  great  event.     Diana  yearns  to  leave 
The  savage  coast  of  these  barbarians, 
Foul  with  their  sacrifice  of  human  blood. 
We  were  selected  for  the  high  emprise : 
To  us  it  is  assigned,  and  strangely  thus 
We  are  conducted  to  the  threshold  here. 

ORESTES. 

My  friend,  with  wondrous  skill  thou  linkest  thy  wish 
With  the  predestined  purpose  of  the  gods. 


36  IPHIGENIA   IN   TAURIS 

PYLADES. 

Of  what  avail  is  prudence,  if  it  fail 

Heedful  to  mark  the  purposes  of  Heaven  ? 

A  noble  man,  who  much  hath  sinned,  some  god 

Doth  summon  to  a  dangerous  enterprise. 

Which  to  achieve  appears  impossible. 

The  hero  conquers,  and  atoning  serves 

Mortals  and  gods,  who  thenceforth  honour  him. 

ORESTES. 

Am  I  foredoomed  to  action  and  to  hfe, 
Would  that  a  god  from  my  distempered  brain 
Might  chase  this  dizzy  fever,  which  impels 
My  restless  steps  along  a  slippery  path, 
Stained  with  a  mother's  blood,  to  direful  death 
And,  pitying,  dry  the  fountain,  whence  the  blood, 
For  ever  spouting  from  a  mother's  wounds, 
Eternally  defiles  me ! 

PYLADES. 

Wait  in  peace  ! 
Thou  dost  increase  the  evil,  and  dost  take 
The  office  of  the  Furies  on  thyself. 
Let  me  contrive  —  be  still !     And  when  at  length 
The  time  for  action  claims  our  powers  combined, 
Then  will  I  summon  thee,  and  on  we'll  stride, 
With  cautious  boldness  to  achieve  the  event. 


ORESTES. 

I  hear  Ulysses  speak. 

PYLADES, 

Nay,  mock  me  not. 
Each  must  select  the  hero  after  whom 


IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS  37 

To  climb  the  steep  and  difficult  ascent 
Of  high  Olympus.     Aud  to  me  it  seems 
That  him  nor  stratagem  nor  art  defiles 
Who  consecrates  himself  to  noble  deeds. 

ORESTES. 

I  most  esteem  the  brave  and  upright  man. 

PYLADES. 

And  therefore  have  I  not  desired  thy  counsel. 
One  step's  already  taken.     From  our  guards 
E'en  now  I  this  intelligence  have  gained,  — 
A  strange  and  godlike  woman  holds  in  check 
The  execution  of  that  bloody  law : 
Incense  and  prayer,  and  an  unsullied  heart,  — 
These  are  the  gifts  she  offers  to  the  gods. 
Rumour  extols  her  highly  :  it  is  thought 
That  from  the  race  of  Amazon  she  springs, 
And  hither  fled  some  great  calamity. 

ORESTES. 

Her  gentle  sway,  it  seems,  lost  all  its  power 
When  hither  came  the  culprit  whom  the  curse, 
Like  murky  night,  envelops  and  pursues. 
Our  doom  to  seal,  the  pious  thirst  for  blood 
The  ancient  cruel  rite  again  unchains : 
The  monarch's  savage  will  decrees  our  death ; 
A  woman  cannot  save  when  he  condemns. 

PYLADES. 

That  'tis  a  woman,  is  a  ground  for  hope ! 
A  man,  the  very  best,  with  cruelty 
At  length  may  so  familiarise  his  mind. 
His  character  through  custom  so  transform, 
That  he  shall  come  to  make  himself  a  law 


38  IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS 

Of  what  at  first  his  very  soul  abhorred. 
But  woman  doth  retain  the  stamp  of  mind 
She  first  assumed.     On  her  we  may  depend 
In  good  or  evil  with  more  certainty. 
She  comes  :  leave  us  alone.     I  dare  not  tell 
At  once  our  names,  nor  unreserved  confide 
Our  fortunes  to  her.     Now,  retire  awhile ; 
And  ere  she  speaks  with  thee  we'll  meet  again. 


Scene  II.  —  Iphigenia,  Pylades. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Whence  art  thou  ?     Stranger,  speak  !     To  me  thy  bear- 
ing 
Stamps  thee  of  Grecian,  not  of  Scythian,  race. 

{She  unbinds  Ms  chains.) 
The  freedom  that  I  give  is  dangerous  : 
The  gods  avert  the  doom  that  threatens  you  ! 

PYLADES. 

Dehcious  music !  dearly  welcome  tones 

Of  our  own  language  in  a  foreign  land ! 

With  joy  my  captive  eye  once  more  beholds 

The  azure  mountains  of  my  native  coast. 

Oh,  let  this  joy  that  I  too  am  a  Greek 

Convince  thee,  priestess !     How  I  need  thine  aid, 

A  moment  I  forget,  my  spirit  rapt 

In  contemplation  of  so  fair  a  vision. 

If  fate's  dread  mandate  doth  not  seal  thy  lips, 

From  which  of  our  illustrious  races  say, 

Dost  thou  thy  god-hke  origin  derive  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

The  priestess  whom  the  goddess  hath  herself 
Selected  and  ordained  doth  speak  with  thee. 


IPHIGI-NIA   IN  TAURIS  39 

Let  that  suffice ;  but  tell  me,  who  art  thou, 
And  what  unblessed  o'erruling  destiny- 
Hath  hither  led  thee  with  thy  friend  ? 

PYLADES. 

The  woe, 
Whose  hateful  presence  ever  dogs  our  steps, 
I  can  with  ease  relate.     Oh,  would  that  thou 
Couldst  with  like  ease,  divine  one,  shed  on  us 
One  ray  of  cheering  hope !     We  are  from  Crete, 
Adrastus'  sons,  and  I,  the  youngest  born, 
Named  Cephalus  ;  my  eldest  brother,  he, 
Laodamus.     Between  us  stood  a  youth 
Savage  and  wild,  who  severed  e'en  in  sport 
The  joy  and  concord  of  our  early  youth. 
Long  as  our  father  led  his  powers  at  Troy, 
Passive  our  mother's  mandate  we  obeyed ; 
But  when,  enriched  with  booty,  he  returned. 
And  shortly  after  died,  a  contest  fierce. 
Both  for  the  kingdom  and  their  father's  wealth, 
His  children  parted.     I  the  eldest  joined ; 
He  slew  our  brother ;  and  the  Furies  hence 
For  kindred  murder  dog  his  restless  steps. 
But  to  this  savage  shore  the  Delphian  god 
Hath  sent  us,  cheered  by  hope.     He  bade  us  wait 
Within  his  sister's  consecrated  fane 
The  blessed  hand  of  aid.     Captives  we  are ; 
And,  hither  brought,  before  thee  now  we  stand 
Ordained  for  sacrifice.     My  tale  is  told. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Fell  Troy !     Dear  man,  assure  me  of  its  fall. 

PYLADES. 

Prostrate  it  lies.     Oh,  unto  us  ensure 
Dehverance  !     The  promised  aid  of  heaven 


40  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

More  swiftly  bring.     Take  pity  on  my  brother. 

Oh,  say  to  him  a  kind,  a  gracious  word : 

But  spare  him  when  thou  speakest,  —  earnestly 

This  I  implore ;  for  all  too  easily, 

Through  joy  and  sorrow  and  through  memory, 

Torn  and  distracted  is  his  inmost  being. 

A  feverish  madness  oft  doth  seize  on  him, 

Yielding  his  spirit,  beautiful  and  free, 

A  prey  to  Furies. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Great  as  is  thy  woe. 
Forget  it,  I  conjure  thee,  for  awhile. 
Till  I  am  satisfied. 

PYLADES. 

The  stately  town, 
Which  ten  long  years  withstood  the  Grecian  host, 
Now  lies  in  ruins,  ne'er  to  rise  again  ; 
Yet  many  a  hero's  grave  will  oft  recall 
Our  sad  remembrance  to  that  barbarous  shore. 
There  lies  Achilles  and  his  noble  friend. 


IPHIGENIA. 

So  are  ye  god-like  forms  reduced  to  dust ! 

PYLADES. 

Nor  Palamede,  nor  Ajax,  e'er  again 
The  daylight  of  their  native  land  beheld. 

IPHIGENIA. 

He  speaks  not  of  my  father,  doth  not  name 
Him  with  the  fallen.     He  may  yet  survive ! 
I  may  behold  him !  still  hope  on,  fond  heart ! 


IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS  41 

PYLADES. 

Yet  happy  are  the  thousands  who  received 

Their  bitter  death-blow  from  a  hostile  hand ! 

For  terror  wild,  and  end  most  tragical, 

Some  hostile,  angry  deity  prepared, 

Instead  of  triumph,  for  the  home-returning. 

Do  human  voices  never  reach  this  shore  ? 

Far  as  their  sound  extends,  they  bear  the  fame 

Of  deeds  unparalleled.     And  is  the  woe 

Which  fills  Mycene's  halls  with  ceaseless  sighs 

To  thee  a  secret  still  ?  —  And  knowest  thou  not 

That  Clytemnestra,  with  ^gisthus'  aid. 

Her  royal  consort  artfully  ensnared. 

And  murdered  on  the  day  of  his  return  ?  — 

The  monarch's  house  thou  honourest !     I  perceive 

Thy  breast  with  tidings  vainly  doth  contend 

Fraught  with  such  monstrous  and  unlooked-for  woe. 

Art  thou  the  daughter  of  a  friend  ?  art  born 

Within  the  circuit  of  Mycene's  walls  ? 

Conceal  it  not,  nor  call  me  to  account 

That  here  the  horrid  crime  I  first  announce. 


IPHIGENIA. 

Proceed,  and  tell  me  how  the  deed  was  done. 

PYLADES. 

The  day  of  his  return,  as  from  the  bath 
Arose  the  monarch,  tranquil  and  refreshed, 
His  robe  demanding  from  his  consort's  hand, 
A  tangled  garment,  complicate  with  folds, 
She  o'er  his  shoulders  flung  and  noble  head : 
And  when,  as  from  a  net,  he  vainly  strove 
To  extricate  himself,  the  traitor,  base 
-^gisthus,  smote  him ;  and,  enveloped  thus, 
Great  Agamemnon  sought  the  shades  below. 


42  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

IPHIGENIA. 
And  what  reward  received  the  base  accomphce  ? 

PYLADES. 

A  queen  and  kingdom  he  possessed  already. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Base  passion  prompted,  then,  the  deed  of  shame  ? 

PYLADES. 

And  feelings,  cherished  long,  of  deep  revenge. 

IPHIGENIA. 

How  had  the  monarch  injured  Clytemnestra  ? 

PYLADES. 

By  such  a  dreadful  deed,  that,  if  on  earth 
Aught  could  exculpate  murder,  it  were  this : 
To  Auhs  he  allured  her,  when  the  fleet 
With  unpropitious  winds  the  goddess  stayed ; 
And  there,  a  victim  on  Diana's  shrine, 
The  monarch,  for  the  welfare  of  the  Greeks, 
Her  eldest  daughter  doomed,  Iphigenia. 
And  this,  so  rumour  saith,  within  her  heart 
Planted  such  deep  abhorrence,  that  forthwith 
She  to  ^gisthus  hath  resigned  herself, 
And  round  her  husband  flung  the  web  of  death. 

IPHIGENIA  {veiling  herself). 
It  is  enough !     Thou  wilt  again  behold  me. 

PYLADES  {alone). 

The  fortune  of  this  royal  house,  it  seems. 
Doth  move  her  deeply.     Whosoe'er  she  be. 


IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS  43 

She  must  herself  have  known  the  monarch  well ;  — 
For  our  good  fortune,  from  a  noble  house, 
She  hath  been  sold  to  bondage.     Peace,  my  heart ! 
And  let  us  steer  our  course  with  prudent  zeal 
Toward  the  star  of  hope  which  gleams  upon  us. 


ACT  III. 

Scene   I.  —  Iphigenia,  Okestes. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Unhappy  man,  I  only  loose  thy  bonds 

In  token  of  a  still  severer  doom. 

The  freedom  which  the  sanctuary  imparts, 

Like  the  last  life-gleam  o'er  the  dying  face. 

But  heralds  death.     I  cannot,  dare  not,  say 

Your  doom  is  hopeless ;  for,  with  murderous  hand, 

Could  I  inflict  the  fatal  blow  myself  ? 

And,  while  I  here  am  priestess  of  Diana, 

None,  be  he  who  he  may,  dare  touch  your  heads. 

But  the  incensed  king,  should  I  refuse 

Compliance  with  the  rites  himself  enjoined, 

Will  choose  another  virgin  from  my  train 

As  my  successor.     Then,  alas  !  with  nought, 

Save  ardent  wishes,  can  I  succour  you. 

Much-honoured  countrymen  !     The  humblest  slave, 

Who  had  but  neared  our  sacred  household  hearth, 

Is  dearly  welcome  in  a  foreign  land : 

How  with  proportioned  joy  and  blessing,  then, 

Shall  I  receive  the  man  who  doth  recall 

The  image  of  the  heroes,  whom  I  learned 

To  honour  from  my  parents,  and  who  cheers 

My  inmost  heart  with  flattering  gleams  of  hope ! 


44  IPHIGENIA   IN   TAURIS 

OKESTES. 

Does  prudent  forethought  prompt  thee  to  conceal 
Thy  name  and  race  ?  or  may  I  hope  to  know 
Who,  hke  a  heavenly  vision  meets  me  thus  ? 


IPHIGENIA. 

Yes,  thou  shalt  know  me.     Now  conclude  the  tale 

Of  which  thy  brother  only  told  me  half : 

Eelate  their  end,  who,  coming  home  from  Troy, 

On  their  own  threshold  met  a  doom  severe 

And  most  unlooked-for.     Young  I  was  in  sooth 

When  first  conducted  to  this  foreign  shore. 

Yet  well  I  recollect  the  timid  glance 

Of  wonder  and  amazement  which  I  cast 

On  those  heroic  forms.     When  they  went  forth, 

It  seemed  as  though  Olympus  had  sent  down 

The  glorious  figures  of  a  bygone  world. 

To  frighten  Ilion ;  and,  above  them  all, 

Great  Agamemnon  towered  preeminent ! 

Oh,  tell  me !     Fell  the  hero  in  his  home. 

Through  Clytemnestra's  and  ^gisthus'  wiles  ? 

ORESTES. 

He  f  eU ! 

IPHIGENIA. 

Unblest  Mycene !     Thus  the  sons 
Of  Tantalus,  with  barbarous  hands,  have  sown 
Curse  upon  curse ;  and,  as  the  shaken  weed 
Scatters  around  a  thousand  poison-seeds. 
So  they  assassins  ceaseless  generate, 
Their  children's  children  ruthless  to  destroy.  — 
Now  tell  the  remnant  of  thy  brother's  tale, 
Which  horror  darkly  hid  from  me  before. 
How  did  the  last  descendant  of  the  race,  — 


IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS  45 

The  gentle  child,  to  whom  the  gods  assigned 
The  office  of  avenger,  —  how  did  he 
Escape  that  day  of  blood  ?     Did  equal  fate 
Around  Orestes  throw  Avernus'  net  ? 
Say,  was  he  saved  ?  and  is  he  still  alive  ? 
And  lives  Electra  too  ? 

ORESTES. 

They  both  survive. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Golden  Apollo,  lend  thy  choicest  beams  ! 
Lay  them  an  offering  at  the  throne  of  Jove ! 
For  I  am  poor  and  dumb ! 

ORESTES. 

If  social  bonds, 
Or  ties  more  close,  connect  thee  with  this  house, 
As  this  thy  rapturous  joy  betray eth  to  me, 
Oh,  then,  rein  in  thy  heart  and  hold  it  fast ! 
For  insupportable  the  sudden  plunge 
From  happiness  to  sorrow's  gloomy  depth. 
Thou  knowest  only  Agamemnon's  death. 

IPHIGENIA. 

And  is  not  this  intelligence  enough  ? 

ORESTES. 

Half  of  the  horror  only  hast  thou  heard. 

IPHIGENIA. 

What  should  I  fear  ?     Orestes,  Electra,  Hve. 


46  IPHIGENIA   IN   TAURIS 

ORESTES, 

And  fearest  thou  for  Clytemnestra  nought  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Her,  neither  hope  nor  fear  hath  power  to  save. 

ORESTES. 

She  to  the  land  of  hope  hath  bid  farewell. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Did  her  repentant  hand  shed  her  own  blood  ? 

ORESTES. 

Not  so ;  yet  her  own  blood  inflicted  death. 

IPHIGENIA. 

More  plainly  speak,  nor  leave  me  in  suspense. 
Uncertainty  around  my  anxious  head 
Her  dusky,  thousand-folded  pinion  waves. 

ORESTES. 

Have,  then,  the  Powers  above  selected  me 

To  be  the  herald  of  a  dreadful  deed. 

Which  in  the  drear  and  soundless  realms  of  night 

I  fain  would  hide  for  ever  ?     'Gainst  my  will 

Thy  gentle  voice  constrains  me :  it  demands, 

And  shall  receive,  a  tale  of  direst  woe. 

Electra,  on  the  day  when  fell  her  sire. 

Her  brother  from  impending  doom  concealed : 

Him  Strophius,  his  father's  relative, 

Eeceived  with  kindest  care,  and  reared  him  up. 

With  his  own  son,  named  Pylades,  who  soon 

Around  the  stranger  twined  love's  fairest  bonds. 


IPHIGENIA   IN   TAURIS  47 

And  as  tliey  grew,  within  their  inmost  souls, 

There  sprang  the  burning  longing  to  revenge 

The  monarch's  death.     Unlooked  for,  and  disguised, 

They  reached  Myceue,  feigning  to  have  brought 

The  mournful  tidings  of  Orestes'  death, 

Together  with  his  ashes.     Them  the  queen 

Gladly  receives.     Within  the  house  they  enter  : 

Orestes  to  Electra  shows  himself ; 

She  fans  the  fires  of  vengeance  into  flame. 

Which,  in  the  sacred  presence  of  a  mother, 

Had  burned  more  dimly.     Silently  she  leads 

Her  brother  to  the  spot  where  fell  their  sire ; 

Where  lurid  blood-marks,  on  the  oft-washed  floor, 

With  pallid  streaks  anticipate  revenge. 

With  fiery  eloquence  she  pictured  forth 

Each  circumstance  of  that  atrocious  deed,  — 

Her  own  oppressed  and  miserable  life. 

The  prosperous  traitor's  insolent  demeanour. 

The  perils  threatening  Agamemnon's  race 

From  her  who  had  become  their  stepmother.  — 

Then  in  his  hand  the  ancient  dagger  thrust. 

Which  often  in  the  house  of  Tantalus 

With  savage  fury  raged,  —  and  by  her  son 

Was  Clytemnestra  slain. 


IPHIGENIA. 

Immortal  Powers  ! 
Whose  pure  and  blest  existence  ghdes  away 
'Mid  ever-shifting  clouds,  me  have  ye  kept 
So  many  years  secluded  from  the  world, 
Eetained  me  near  yourselves,  consigned  to  me 
The  childlike  task  to  feed  the  sacred  fire. 
And  taught  my  spirit,  like  the  hallowed  flame, 
With  never-clouded  brightness  to  aspire 
To  your  pure  mansions,  —  but  at  length  to  feel 
With  keener  woe  the  horror  of  my  house  ? 


48  IPHIGENIA  IN   TAURIS 

Oh,  tell  me  of  the  poor  unfortunate  I 
Speak  of  Orestes  ! 

OKESTES. 

Oh,  could  I  speak  to  tell  thee  of  his  death ! 

Forth  from  the  slain  one's  spouting  blood  arose 

His  mother's  ghost ; 

And  to  the  ancient  daughters  of  the  night 

Cries,  "  Let  him  not  escape,  —  the  matricide ! 

Pursue  the  victim,  dedicate  to  you  ! " 

They  hear,  and  glare  around  with  hollow  eyes, 

Like  greedy  eagles.     In  their  murky  dens 

They  stir  themselves  ;  and  from  the  corners  creep 

Their  comrades,  dire  Eemorse  and  pallid  Fear ; 

Before  them  fumes  a  mist  of  Acheron ; 

Perplexingly  around  the  murderer's  brow 

The  eternal  contemplation  of  the  past 

Rolls  in  its  cloudy  circles.     Once  again 

The  grisly  band,  commissioned  to  destroy, 

Pollute  earth's  beautiful  and  heaven-sown  fields, 

From  which  an  ancient  curse  had  banished  them. 

Their  rapid  feet  the  fugitive  pursue : 

They  only  pause  to  start  a  wilder  fear. 

< 

IPHIGENIA. 

Unhappy  one :  thy  lot  resembles  his  ; 

Thou  feelest  what  he,  poor  fugitive,  must  suffer. 

ORESTES. 

What  sayest  thou  ?     Why  presume  my  fate  like  his  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

A  brother's  murder  weighs  upon  thy  soul : 
Thy  younger  brother  told  the  mournful  tale. 


IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS  49 

OKESTES. 

I  cannot  suffer  that  thy  noble  soul 

Should  by  a  word  of  falsehood  be  deceived. 

In  cunning  rich  and  practised  in  deceit, 

A  web  ensnaring  let  the  stranger  weave 

To  snare  the  stranger's  feet :  between  us  twain 

Be  truth ! 

I  am  Orestes  !  and  this  guilty  head 

Is  stooping  to  the  tomb,  and  covets  death : 

It  will  be  welcome  now  in  any  shape. 

Whoe'er  thou  art,  for  thee  and  for  my  friend 

I  wish  deliverance;  —  I  desire  it  not. 

Thou  seemest  to  hnger  here  against  thy  will : 

Contrive  some  means  of  flight,  and  leave  me  here ; 

My  lifeless  corpse  hurled  headlong  from  the  rock. 

My  blood  shall  mingle  with  the  dashing  waves, 

And  bring  a  curse  upon  this  barbarous  shore ! 

Eeturn  together  home  to  lovely  Greece, 

With  joy  a  new  existence  to  commence. 

(Orestes  retires.) 

IPHIGENIA. 

At  length.  Fulfilment,  fairest  child  of  Jove, 
Thou  dost  descend  upon  me  from  on  high  ! 
How  vast  thine  image  !  scarce  my  straining  eye 
Can  reach  thy  hands,  which,  filled  with  golden  fruit 
And  wreaths  of  blessing,  from  Olympus'  height 
Shower  treasures  down.     As  by  his  bounteous  gifts 
We  recognise  the  monarch  (for  what  seems 
To  thousands  opulence,  is  nought  to  him) ; 
So  you,  ye  heavenly  Powers,  are  also  known 
By  bounty  long  withheld,  and  wisely  planned. 
Ye  only  know  what  things  are  good  for  us : 
Ye  view  the  future's  wide-extended  realm, 
While  from  our  eye  a  dim  or  starry  veil 
The  prospect  shrouds.     Calmly  ye  hear  our  prayers, 


50  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

When  we  like  children  sue  for  greater  speed. 
Not  immature  ye  pluck  heaven's  golden  fruit, 
And  woe  to  him  who  with  impatient  hand, 
His  date  of  joy  forestalling,  gathers  death. 
Let  not  this  long-awaited  happiness, 
Which  yet  my  heart  hath  scarcely  realised. 
Like  to  the  shadow  of  departed  friends, 
Glide  vainly  by  with  triple  sorrow  fraught ! 

ORESTES  {returning). 

Dost  thou  for  Pylades  and  for  thyself 
Implore  the  gods,  blend  not  my  name  with  yours : 
Thou  wilt  not  save  the  wretch  whom  thou  wouldst  join, 
But  will  participate  his  curse  and  woe. 

IPHIGENIA. 

My  destiny  is  firmly  bound  to  thine. 

OKESTES. 

No,  say  not  so  :  alone  and  unattended 

Let  me  descend  to  Hades.     Though  thou  shouldst 

In  thine  own  veil  enwrap  the  guilty  one, 

Thou  couldst  not  shroud  him  from  his  wakeful  foes ; 

And  e'en  thy  sacred  presence,  heavenly  maid. 

But  driveth  them  aside  and  scares  them  not. 

With  brazen,  impious  feet  they  dare  not  tread 

Within  the  precincts  of  this  sacred  grove ; 

Yet  in  the  distance,  ever  and  anon, 

I  hear  their  horrid  laughter,  like  the  howl 

Of  famished  wolves,  beneath  the  tree  wherein 

The  traveller  hides.     Without,  encamped  they  lie ; 

And  should  I  quit  this  consecrated  grove. 

Shaking  their  serpent  locks,  they  would  arise, 

And,  raising  clouds  of  dust  on  every  side, 

Ceaseless  pursue  their  miserable  prey. 


■;UKli> 


Ipliigenia  and  Her  "Brother  Orestes 

Photogravure  from  a  painting  by  W.  V.  Kaulbach 


IPHIGENIA   IN   TAURIS  51 

IPHIGENIA. 

Orestes,  canst  thou  hear  a  friendly  word  ? 

ORESTES. 

Eeserve  it  for  one  favoured  by  the  gods. 

IPHIGENIA. 

To  thee  they  give  anew  the  light  of  hope, 

OKESTES. 

Through  clouds  and  smoke  I  see  the  feeble  gleam 
Of  the  death-stream  which  lights  me  down  to  hell. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Hast  thou  one  sister  only,  thy  Electra  ? 

ORESTES. 

I  knew  but  one ;  yet  her  kind  destiny, 

Which  seemed  to  us  so  terrible,  betimes 

Removed  an  elder  sister  from  the  woe 

Which  o'er  the  house  of  Pelops  aye  impends. 

Oh,  cease  thy  questions,  nor  thus  league  thyself 

With  the  Erinnys  !  still  they  blow  away, 

With  fiendish  joy,  the  ashes  from  my  soul, 

Lest  the  last  embers  of  the  fiery  brand, 

The  fatal  heritage  of  Pelops'  house, 

Should  there  be  quenched.     Must,  then,  the  fire  for  aye. 

Deliberately  kindled  and  supplied 

With  helhsh  sulphur,  sear  my  tortured  soul  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

I  scatter  fragrant  incense  in  the  flame. 
Oh,  let  the  pure,  the  gentle,  breath  of  love. 
Low  murmuring,  cool  thy  bosom's  fiery  glow ! 
Orestes,  fondly  loved,  —  canst  thou  not  hear  me  ? 


52  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

Hath  the  terrific  Furies'  grisly  band 
Dried  up  the  blood  of  life  within  thy  veins  ? 
Creeps  there,  as  from  the  Gorgon's  direful  head, 
A  petrifying  charm  through  all  thy  limbs  ? 
With  hollow  accents  from  a  mother's  blood, 
If  voices  call  thee  to  the  shades  below. 
May  not  a  sister's  word,  with  blessing  rife, 
Call  from  Olympus'  height  help-rendering  gods  ? 


OKESTES. 

She  calls !  she  calls !  —     Dost  thou  desire  my  doom  ? 
Is  there  a  Fury  shrouded  in  thy  form  ? 
Who  art  thou,  that  thy  voice  thus  horribly 
Can  harrow  up  my  bosom's  inmost  depths  ? 


IPHIGENIA. 

Thine  inmost  heart  reveals  it.     I  am  she, — 
Iphigenia,  —  look  on  me,  Orestes  ! 


OKESTES. 

Thou! 

IPHIGENIA. 

My  own  brother. 

OKESTES. 

Hence,  away,  begone ! 
I  counsel  thee,  touch  not  these  fatal  locks  ! 
As  from  Creusa's  bridal  robe,  from  me 
An  inextinguishable  fire  is  kindled. 
Leave  me !     Like  Hercules,  a  death  of  shame. 
Unworthy  wretch,  locked  in  myself,  I'll  die ! 


IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS  S3 

IPIIIGENIA. 

Thou  shalt  not  perish  !     Would  that  I  might  hear 
Oue  quiet  word  from  thee  !  dispel  my  doubts, 
Make  sure  the  bUss  1  have  implored  so  loug. 
A  wheel  of  joy  and  sorrow  in  my  heart 
Ceaseless  revolves.     I  from  a  man  unknown 
With  horror  turn,  but  with  resistless  might 
My  inmost  heart  impels  me  to  my  brother. 

ORESTES. 

Is  this  Lyaeus'  temple  ?     Doth  the  glow 
Of  holy  rage  unbridled  thus  possess 
The  sacred  priestess  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Hear  me  !     Oh,  look  up  ! 
See  how  my  heart,  which  hath  been  closed  so  long, 
Doth  open  to  the  bliss  of  seeing  thee. 
The  dearest  treasure  that  the  world  contains,  — 
Of  falling  on  thy  neck,  and  folding  thee 
Within  my  longing  arms,  which  have  till  now 
Met  the  embraces  of  the  empty  wind. 
Do  not  repulse  me,  —  the  eternal  spring, 
Whose  crystal  waters  from  Parnassus  flow, 
Bounds  not  more  gaily  on  from  rock  to  rock, 
Down  to  the  golden  vale,  than  from  my  heart 
The  waters  of  affection  freely  gush, 
And  round  me  form  a  circling  sea  of  bliss. 
Orestes  !     0  my  brother  ! 

ORESTES. 

Lovely  nymph  1 
Nor  thy  caresses,  nor  thyself,  I  trust : 
Diana  claims  attendants  more  severe. 


54  IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS 

And  doth  avenge  her  desecrated  fane. 
Kemove  thy  circhng  arm !     Wilt  thou  indeed 
Safety  and  love  upon  a  youth  bestow, 
And  fondly  tender  him  earth's  fairest  joy  ? 
Unto  my  friend,  more  worthy  than  myself, 
Impart  thy  favours  ;  'mong  yon  rocks  he  roves : 
Go,  seek  him,  guide  him  hence,  and  heed  not  me. 


IPHIGENIA. 

Brother,  command  thyself,  and  better  know 
Thy  sister,  newly  found !     Misconstrue  not 
Her  pure  and  heavenly  rapture,  blaming  it 
As  lustful  heat  unbridled.     0  ye  gods, 
Eemove  delusion  from  his  rigid  gaze. 
Lest  that  this  moment,  fraught  with  bliss  supreme, 
Should  make  us  trebly  wretched  !     She  is  here, 
Thine  owu,  thy  long-lost  sister !     From  the  altar 
The  goddess  rescued  me,  and  placed  me  here, 
Secure  within  her  consecrated  fane  — 
A  captive  thou,  prepared  for  sacrifice. 
And  findest  here  a  sister  in  the  priestess. 

ORESTES. 

Unblessed  one !     So  may  the  radiant  sun 

The  final  horror  of  our  house  behold ! 

Is  not  Electra  here  ?     That  she  with  us 

May  also  perish,  nor  her  life  prolong 

For  heavier  destiny  and  direr  woe. 

'Tis  well  —  I  follow,  priestess  !     Fratricide 

Is  an  old  custom  of  our  ancient  house ; 

And  you,  ye  gods,  I  thank,  that  ye  resolve 

Childless  to  root  me  hence.     Thee  let  me  counsel 

To  view  too  fondly  neither  sun  nor  stars. 

Come,  follow  to  the  gloomy  realms  below ! 

As  dragons,  gendered  in  the  sulphur  pool, 


IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS  $5 

Swallow  each  other  with  voracious  rage, 

So  our  accursed  race  destroys  itself. 

Childless  and  guiltless  come  below  with  me ! 

There's  pity  in  thy  look  !  oh,  gaze  not  so !  — 

'Twas  with  such  looks  that  Clytemnestra  sought 

An  entrance  to  her  son  Orestes'  heart, 

And  yet  his  upraised  arm  her  bosom  pierced. 

His  mother  fell !  —  Appear,  indignant  shade  ! 

Within  the  circle  step,  ye  fiends  of  hell, 

Be  present  at  the  welcome  spectacle, 

The  last,  most  horrible,  that  ye  prepare ! 

Nor  hate,  nor  vengeance  whets  the  poniard  now : 

A  loving  sister  is  constrained  to  deal 

The  fatal  blow.     Weep  not !     Thou  hast  no  guHt. 

From  earliest  infancy  I  nought  have  loved. 

As  thee  I  could  have  loved,  my  sister.     Come, 

The  weapon  raise,  spare  not,  tbis  bosom  rend. 

And  make  an  outlet  for  its  boiling  streams ! 

(He  sinks  exhausted.) 


IPHIGENIA. 

Alone  I  cannot  bear  this  bliss  and  woe. 
Where  art  thou,  Pylades  ?     Thine  aid  I  need. 

(IPHIGENIA  retires.) 


Scene  II. 

ORESTES   (recovering  from  his  swoon  and  standing  up). 

Give  yet  another !  reach  from  Lethe's  stream 
The  last  reviving  draught  of  cool  refreshment ! 
Soon  shall  its  waters  in  my  bosom  still 
Life's  fitful  fever ;  and  my  spirit  then 
Adown  oblivion's  stream  shall  glide  to  you, 
Ye  spirits  shrouded  in  eternal  mist. 


56  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

With  tranquil  pleasure  in  your  deep  repose, 

A  weary  sun  of  earth  may  lave  his  soul !  — 

What  whispering  sounds  pervade  the  dreary  grove  ? 

What  hollow  murmurs  haunt  its  twihght  gloom  ?  — 

They  gather  round  to  view  the  stranger  guest ! 

Who  are  yon  troop  in  high  communion  met, 

Like  an  assembled  family  of  princes  ? 

They  mingle  peacefully,  of  every  age, 

Of  either  sex  :  godlike,  of  kindred  mould, 

Appear  the  gliding  figures.     Yes,  'tis  they. 

The  fathers  of  my  race !     With  Atreus, 

In  friendly  converse  glides  Thyestes'  shade ; 

And  children  playfully  around  them  sport. 

Is  there  no  enmity  among  you  now  ? 

And  is  revenge  extinguished  with  the  sun  ? 

So  am  I  also  welcome,  and  may  hope 

To  mingle  in  your  solemn  company. 

Welcome,  my  sires  !     Orestes  bids  you  hail ! 

The  seed  that  ye  have  sowed^  that  hath  he  reaped. 

Laden  with  curses  he  descends  to  you. 

But  burdens  here  are  lighter  far  to  bear. 

Eeceive  him,  oh,  receive  him  in  your  circle ! 

Thee,  Atreus,  I  revere,  and  thee,  Thyestes : 

Here  all  are  free  from  enmity  and  hate.  — 

Show  me  my  father,  whom  I  only  once 

In  life  beheld.  — Art  thou  my  father,  thou, 

My  mother  leading  thus  famiharly  ? 

Dares  Clytemnestra  reach  her  hand  to  thee  ? 

Then  may  Orestes  also  draw  near  her. 

And  say.  Behold  thy  son  !  —  my  ancestors. 

Behold  your  son,  and  bid  him  welcome  here. 

Among  the  sons  of  ancient  Tantalus, 

A  kind  salute  on  earth  was  murder's  watchword ; 

And  all  their  joys  commence  beyond  the  grave. 

Ye  welcome  me !     Ye  bid  me  join  your  circle ! 

Oh,  lead  me  to  my  honoured  ancestor ! 

Where  is  our  aged  sire  ?     Let  me  behold 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  57 

The  dear,  the  venerable  head  of  liim 

"Who  with  the  immortal  gods  in  council  sat. 

Ye  seem  to  shudder,  and  to  turn  away  ! 

What  may  this  mean  ?     Suffers  the  godlike  man  ? 

Alas !  the  mighty  gods,  with  ruthless  hate, 

To  his  heroic  breast,  with  brazen  chains. 

Have  cruel  pangs  indissolubly  bound. 


Scene  III.  —  Orestes,  Iphigenia,  Pylades. 

ORESTES. 

How  !  Are  ye  come  already  here  below  ? 
Welcome,  my  sister  !     Still  Electra  fails : 
Oh,  that  some  kindly  god,  with  gentle  arrow. 
Her  too,  full  speedily,  would  downward  send ! 
Thee,  hapless  friend,  I  must  compassionate ! 
Come  with  me  !     Come  !     To  Pluto's  gloomy  throne, 
There  to  salute  our  hosts  like  stranger  guests. 


IPHIGENIA. 

Celestial  pair,  who  from  the  realms  above 

By  night  and  day  shed  down  the  beauteous  hght 

To  cheer  mankind,  but  who  may  not  illume 

Departed  spirits,  save  a  mortal  pair, 

A  brother's  and  a  sister's  anguish  pity ! 

For  thou,  Diana,  lovest  thy  gentle  brother 

Beyond  what  earth  and  heaven  can  offer  thee ; 

And  dost,  with  quiet  yearning,  ever  turn 

Thy  virgin  face  to  his  eternal  light. 

Let  not  my  only  brother,  found  so  late, 

Eave  in  the  darkness  of  insanity ! 

And  is  thy  will,  when  thou  didst  here  conceal  me. 

At  length  fulfilled,  —  wouldst  thou  to  me  through  him, 

To  him  through  me,  thy  gi-acious  aid  extend,  — 


58  IPHIGENIA  IN   TAURIS 

Oh,  free  him  from  the  fetters  of  this  curse, 
Lest  vainly  pass  the  precious  hours  of  safety. 

PYLADES. 

Dost  thou  not  know  us,  and  this  sacred  grove, 

And  this  blest  light,  which  shines  not  on  the  dead  ? 

Dost  thou  not  feel  thy  sister  and  thy  friend, 

Who  hold  the  living  in  their  firm  embrace  ? 

Us  firmly  grasp :  we  are  not  empty  shades. 

Mark  well  my  words  !     Collect  thy  scattered  thoughts  ! 

Attend  !     Each  moment  is  of  priceless  worth  ; 

And  our  return  hangs  on  a  slender  thread, 

Which,  as  it  seems,  some  gracious  fate  doth  spin. 

ORESTES    {to   IPHIGENIA). 

My  sister,  let  me  for  the  first  time  taste. 

With  open  heart,  pure  joy  within  thine  arms ! 

Ye  gods,  who  charge  the  heavy  clouds  with  dread, 

And,  sternly  gracious,  send  the  long-sought  rain 

With  thunder  and  the  rush  of  mighty  winds, 

A  horrid  deluge  on  the  trembling  earth, 

Yet  dissipate  at  length  man's  dread  suspense, 

Exchanging  timid  wonder's  anxious  gaze 

For  grateful  looks  and  joyous  songs  of  praise, 

When,  in  each  sparkling  drop  which  gems  the  leaves, 

Apollo,  thousand-fold,  reflects  his  beam, 

And  Iris  colours  with  a  magic  hand 

The  dusty  texture  of  the  parting  clouds. 

Oh,  let  me  also  in  my  sister's  arms, 

And  on  the  bosom  of  my  friend,  enjoy 

With  grateful  thanks  the  bliss  ye  now  bestow; 

My  heart  assures  me  that  your  curses  cease. 

The  dread  Eumenides  at  length  retire  : 

The  brazen  gates  of  Tartarus  I  hear 

Behind  them  closing  with  a  thunderous  clang. 

A  quickening  odour  from  the  earth  ascends, 


IPHIGENIA   IN   TAURIS  59 

Inviting  me  to  chase,  upon  its  plains, 
The  joys  of  hfe  and  deeds  of  high  emprise. 

PYLADES. 

Lose  not  the  moments  which  are  limited ! 
The  favouring  gale,  which  swells  our  parting  sail, 
Must  to  Olympus  waft  our  perfect  joy. 
Quick  counsel  and  resolve  the  time  demands. 


ACT   IV. 

Scene  I. 

IPHIGENIA. 

When  the  Powers  on  high  decree 

For  a  feeble  child  of  earth 

Dire  perplexity  and  woe. 

And  his  spirit  doom  to  pass 

With  tumult  wild  from  joy  to  grief, 

And  back  again  from  grief  to  joy, 

In  fearful  alternation, 

They  in  mercy  then  provide. 

In  the  precincts  of  his  home, 

Or  upon  the  distant  shore. 

That  to  him  may  never  fail 

Ready  help  in  hours  of  need, 

A  tranquil,  faithful  friend. 

Oh,  bless,  ye  heavenly  Powers,  our  Pylades, 

And  whatsoever  he  may  undertake  ! 

He  is  in  fight  the  vigorous  arm  of  youth. 

And  his  the  thoughtful  eye  of  age  in  counsel : 

For  tranquil  is  his  soul ;  he  guardeth  there 

Of  calm  a  sacred  and  exhaustless  dower. 

And  from  its  depths,  in  rich  supply,  outpours 


6o  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

Comfort  and  counsel  for  the  sore  distressed. 

He  tore  me  from  my  brother,  upon  whom, 

With  fond  amaze,  1  gazed  and  gazed  again : 

I  could  not  realise  my  happiness, 

Nor  loose  him  from  ray  arms,  and  heeded  not 

The  danger's  near  approach  that  threatens  us. 

To  execute  their  project  of  escape. 

They  hastened  to  the  sea,  where,  in  a  bay, 

Their  comrades  in  the  vessel  lie  concealed. 

Waiting  a  signal.     Me  they  have  supplied 

With  artful  answers,  should  the  monarch  send 

To  urge  the  sacrifice.     Alas  !  I  see 

I  must  consent  to  follow  like  a  child : 

I  have  not  learned  deception,  nor  the  art 

To  gain  with  crafty  wiles  my  purposes. 

Detested  falsehood  !  it  doth  not  reheve 

The  breast  like  words  of  truth :  it  comforts  not. 

But  is  a  torment  in  the  forger's  heart. 

And,  like  an  arrow  which  a  god  directs, 

Fhes  back  and  wounds  the  archer.     Through  my  heart 

One  fear  doth  chase  another :  perhaps  with  rage, 

Again  on  the  unconsecrated  shore. 

The  Furies'  grisly  band  my  brother  seize. 

Perchance  they  are  surprised.     Methinks  I  hear 

The  tread  of  armed  men.     A  messenger 

Is  coming  from  the  king,  with  hasty  steps. 

How  throbs  my  heart,  how  troubled  is  my  soul, 

Now  that  I  gaze  upon  the  face  of  one 

Whom  with  a  word  untrue  I  must  encounter ! 


Scene  II.  —  Iphigenia,  Akkas. 

AREAS. 

Priestess,  with  speed  conclude  the  sacrifice ! 
Impatiently  the  king  and  people  wait. 


IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS  6i 


IPHIGENIA. 


I  had  performed  my  duty  and  thy  will, 
Had  not  an  unforeseen  impediment 
The  execution  of  my  purpose  thwarted. 

ARKAS. 

What  is  it  that  obstructs  the  king's  commands  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Chance,  which  from  mortals  will  not  brook  control. 

AREAS. 

Possess  me  with  the  reason,  that  with  speed 
I  may  inform  the  king,  who  hath  decreed 
The  death  of  both. 

IPHIGENIA. 

The  gods  have  not  decreed  it. 
The  elder  of  these  men  doth  bear  the  guilt 
Of  kindred  murder :  on  his  steps  attend 
The  dread  Erinnys.     In  the  inner  fane 
They  seized  upon  their  prey,  polluting  thus 
The  holy  sanctuary.     I  hasten  now. 
Together  with  my  virgin-train,  to  bathe 
The  goddess'  image  in  the  sea,  and  there 
With  solemn  rites  its  purity  restore. 
Let  none  presume  our  silent  march  to  follow ! 

ARKAS. 

This  hindrance  to  the  monarch  I'll  announce : 
Commence  not  thou  the  rite  till  he  permit. 

IPHIGENIA. 

The  priestess  interferes  alone  in  this. 


62  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

AEKAS. 
An  incident  so  strange  the  king  should  know. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Here  nor  his  counsel  nor  command  avails. 

AEKAS. 

Oft  are  the  great  consulted  out  of  form. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Do  not  insist  on  what  I  must  refuse. 

AREAS. 

A  needful  and  a  iust  demand  refuse  not. 

IPHIGENIA. 

I  yield,  if  thou  delay  not. 

AREAS. 

I  with  speed 
Will  bear  these  tidings  to  the  camp,  and  soon 
Acquaint  thee,  priestess,  with  the  king's  reply. 
There  is  a  message  I  would  gladly  bear  him,  — 
'Twould  quickly  banish  all  perplexity : 
Thou  didst  not  heed  thy  faithful  friend's  advice. 

IPHIGENIA. 

I  willingly  have  done  whate'er  I  could. 

AREAS. 

E'en  now  'tis  not  too  late  to  change  thy  purpose. 

IPHIGENIA. 

To  do  so  is,  alas  !  beyond  our  power. 


IPHIGENIA   IN   TAURIS  63 

AKKAS. 

What  thou  wouldst  shun,  thou  deemest  impossible. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Thy  wish  doth  make  thee  deem  it  possible. 

ARKAS. 

Wilt  thou  so  calmly  venture  everything  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

My  fate  I  have  committed  to  the  gods. 

ARKAS. 

The  gods  are  wont  to  save  by  human  means. 

IPHIGENIA. 

By  their  appointment  everything  is  done. 

ARKAS. 

Believe  me,  all  doth  now  depend  on  thee. 

The  irritated  temper  of  the  king 

Alone  condemns  these  men  to  bitter  death. 

The  soldiers  from  the  cruel  sacrifice 

And  bloody  service  long  have  been  disused ; 

Nay,  many,  whom  their  adverse  fortunes  cast 

In  foreign  regions,  there  themselves  have  felt 

How  godlike  to  the  exiled  wanderer 

The  friendly  countenance  of  man  appears. 

Do  not  deprive  us  of  thy  gentle  aid  ! 

With  ease  thou  canst  thy  sacred  task  fulfil ; 

For  nowhere  doth  benignity,  which  comes 

In  human  form  from  heaven,  so  quickly  gain 

An  empire  o'er  the  heart,  as  where  a  race. 

Gloomy  and  savage,  full  of  life  and  power, 


64  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

Without  external  guidance,  and  oppressed 
With  vague  forebodings,  bear  life's  heavy  load. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Shake  not  my  spirit,  which  thou  canst  not  bend 
According  to  thy  will. 

AKKAS. 

While  there  is  time. 
Nor  labour  nor  persuasion  shall  be  spared. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Thy  labour  but  occasions  pain  to  me ; 
Both  are  in  vain :  therefore,  I  pray,  depart. 

AKKAS. 

I  summon  pain  to  aid  me :  'tis  a  friend 
Who  counsels  wisely. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Though  it  shakes  my  soul, 
It  doth  not  banish  thence  my  strong  repugnance. 

AEKAS. 

Can,  then,  a  gentle  soul  repugnance  feel 
For  benefits  bestowed  by  one  so  noble  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Yes,  when  the  donor,  for  those  benefits, 
Instead  of  gratitude,  demands  myself. 

AREAS. 

Who  no  affection  feels  doth  never  want 
Excuses.     To  the  king  I  will  relate 


IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS  65 

What  hath  befallen.     Oh  that  iu  thy  soul 
Thou  wouldst  revolve  his  noble  conduct  to  thee 
Since  thy  arrival  to  the  present  day  ! 


Scene  III. 

IPHIGENIA  {alone). 

These  words  at  an  unseasonable  hour 

Produce  a  strong  revulsion  in  my  breast : 

I  am  alarmed !  —  For  as  the  rushing  tide 

In  rapid  currents  eddies  o'er  the  rocks 

Which  lie  among  the  sand  upon  the  shore, 

E'en  so  a  stream  of  joy  o'erwhelmed  my  soul. 

I  grasped  what  had  appeared  impossible. 

It  was  as  though  another  gentle  cloud 

Around  me  lay,  to  raise  me  from  the  earth. 

And  rock  my  spirit  in  the  same  sweet  sleep 

Which  the  kind  goddess  shed  around  my  brow, 

What  time  her  circling  arm  from  danger  snatched  me. 

My  brother  forcibly  engrossed  my  heart ; 

I  listened  only  to  his  friend's  advice ; 

My  soul  rushed  eagerly  to  rescue  them ; 

And  as  the  mariner  with  joy  surveys 

The  lessening  breakers  of  a  desert  isle, 

So  Tauris  lay  behind  me.     But  the  voice 

Of  faithful  Arkas  wakes  me  from  my  dream, 

Eemindiug  me  that  those  whom  I  forsake 

Are  also  men.     Deceit  doth  now  become 

Doubly  detested.     0  my  soul,  be  still ! 

Beginnest  thou  now  to  tremble  and  to  doubt  ? 

Thy  lonely  shelter  on  the  firm-set  earth 

Must  thou  abandon,  and,  embarked  once  more, 

At  random  drift  upon  tumultuous  waves, 

A  stranger  to  thyself  and  to  the  world  ? 


66  IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS 


Scene  IV.  —  Iphigenia,  Pylades. 

PYLADES. 

Where  is  she  ?  that  my  words  with  speed  may  tell 
The  joyful  tidings  of  our  near  escape  ! 

IPHIGENIA. 

Oppressed  with  gloomy  care,  I  much  require 
The  certain  comfort  thou  dost  promise  me. 

PYLADES. 

Thy  brother  is  restored !     The  rocky  paths 
Of  this  unconsecrated  shore  we  trod 
In  friendly  converse  ;  while  behind  us  lay, 
Unmarked  by  us,  the  consecrated  grove ; 
And  ever  with  increasing  glory  shone 
The  fire  of  youth  around  his  noble  brow. 
Courage  and  hope  liis  glowing  eye  inspired ; 
And  his  exultant  heart  resigned  itself 
To  the  delight,  the  joy,  of  rescuing 
Thee,  his  deliverer,  also  me,  his  friend. 

IPHIGENIA. 

The  gods  shower  blessings  on  thee,  Pylades ! 

And  from  those  lips  which  breathe  such  welcome  news, 

Be  the  sad  note  of  anguish  never  heard  ! 

PYLADES. 

I  bring  yet  more  ;  for  fortune,  hke  a  prince, 
Comes  not  alone,  but  well  accompanied. 
Our  friends  and  comrades  we  have  also  found. 
Within  a  bay  they  had  concealed  the  ship. 


IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS  67 

And  mournful  sat  expectant.     They  beheld 

Thy  brother,  and  a  joyous  shout  upraised, 

Imploriug  him  to  haste  the  parting  hour. 

Each  hand  impatient  longed  to  grasp  the  oar ; 

While  from  the  shore  a  gently  murmuring  breeze, 

Perceived  by  all,  unfurled  its  wings  auspicious. 

Let  us  then  hasten :  guide  me  to  the  fane. 

That  I  may  tread  the  sanctuary,  and  win 

With  sacred  awe  the  goal  of  our  desires. 

I  can  unaided  on  my  shoulder  bear 

The  goddess'  image :  how  I  long  to  feel 

The  precious  burden  ! 

( WTiile  speaking  the  last  words,  he  approaches  the 
Temple,  without  perceiving  that  he  is  not  fol- 
lowed hy  Ipiiigenia  :  at  length  he  turns 
round.) 

Why  thus  lingering  stand  ? 

Why  art  thou  silent  ?  wherefore  thus  confused  ? 

Doth  some  new  obstacle  oppose  our  bliss  ? 

Inform  me,  hast  thou  to  the  king  announced 

The  prudent  message  we  agreed  upon  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

I  have,  dear  Pylades ;  yet  wilt  thou  chide. 
Thy  very  aspect  is  a  mute  reproach. 
The  royal  messenger  arrived  ;  and  I, 
According  to  thy  counsel,  framed  my  speech. 
He  seemed  surprised,  and  urgently  besought. 
That  to  the  monarch  I  should  first  announce 
The  rite  unusual,  and  attend  his  will. 
I  now  await  the  messenger's  return. 

PYLADES. 

Danger  again  doth  hover  o'er  our  heads  ! 
Alas  !  Why  hast  thou  failed  to  shroud  thyself 
Within  the  veil  of  sacerdotal  rites  ? 


68  IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS 

IPHIGENIA. 

I  never  have  employed  them  as  a  veil. 

PYLADES. 

Pure  soul !  thy  scruples  will  destroy  alike 
Thyself  and  us.     Why  did  I  not  foresee 
Such  an  emergency,  and  tutor  thee 
This  counsel  also  wisely  to  elude  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Chide  only  me,  for  mine  alone  the  blame. 
Yet  other  answer  could  I  not  return 
To  him,  who  strongly  and  with  reason  urged 
What  my  own  heart  acknowledged  to  be  right. 

PYLADES. 

The  danger  thickens ;  but  let  us  be  firm, 
Nor  with  incautious  haste  betray  ourselves. 
Calmly  await  the  messenger's  return, 
And  then  stand  fast,  whatever  his  reply ; 
For  the  appointment  of  such  sacred  rites 
Doth  to  the  priestess,  not  the  king,  belong. 
Should  he  demand  the  stranger  to  behold. 
Who  is  by  madness  heavily  oppressed, 
Evasively  pretend,  that  in  the  fane, 
Well  guarded,  thou  retainest  him  and  me. 
Thus  you  secure  us  time  to  fly  with  speed, 
Bearing  the  sacred  treasure  from  this  race, 
Unworthy  its  possession.     Phoebus  sends 
Auspicious  omens,  and  fulfils  his  word, 
Ere  we  the  first  conditions  have  performed. 
Free  is  Orestes,  from  the  curse  absolved  ! 
Oh,  with  the  freed  one,  to  the  rocky  isle 
Where  dwells  the  god,  waft  us,  propitious  gales ! 
Thence  to  Mycene,  that  she  may  revive ; 


IPHIGENIA  IN   TAURIS  69 

That  from  the  ashes  of  the  extinguished  hearth, 
The  household  gods  may  joyously  arise. 
And  beauteous  tire  illumine  their  abode  ! 
Thy  hand  from  golden  censers  first  shall  strew 
The  fragrant  incense.     O'er  that  threshold  thou 
Shalt  life  and  blessing  once  again  dispense, 
The  curse  atone,  and  all  thy  kindred  grace 
With  the  fresh  bloom  of  renovated  hfe. 


IPHIGENIA. 

As  doth  the  flower  revolve  to  meet  the  sun. 
Once  more  my  spirit  to  sweet  comfort  turns, 
Struck  by  thy  words'  invigorating  ray. 
How  dear  the  counsel  of  a  present  friend, 
Lacking  whose  godlike  power,  the  lonely  one 
In  silence  droops !  for,  locked  within  his  breast. 
Slowly  are  ripened  purpose  and  resolve, 
Which  friendship's  genial  warmth  had  soon  matured. 


PYLADES. 

Farewell !     I  haste  to  reassure  our  friends, 
Who  anxiously  await  us :  then  with  speed 
I  will  return,  and,  hid  within  the  brake, 
Attend  thy  signal.  —  Wherefore,  all  at  once, 
Doth  anxious  thought  o'ercloud  thy  brow  serene  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Forgive  me  !     As  light  clouds  athwart  the  sun. 
So  cares  and  fears  float  darkling  o'er  my  soul. 

PYLADES. 

Oh,  banish  fear !     With  danger  it  hath  formed 
A  close  alhance,  —  they  are  constant  friends. 


• 


70  IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS 

IPHIGENIA. 

It  is  an  honest  scruple,  which  forbids 
That  I  should  cunningly  deceive  the  king, 
And  plunder  him  who  was  my  second  father. 

PYLADES. 

Him  thou  dost  fly,  who  would  have  slain  thy  brother. 

IPHIGENIA. 

To  me,  at  least,  he  hath  been  ever  kind. 

PYLADES. 

What  fate  commands  is  not  ingratitude. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Alas  !  it  still  remains  ingratitude  : 
Necessity  alone  can  justify  it. 

PYLADES. 

Thee,  before  gods  and  men,  it  justifies. 

IPHIGENIA. 

But  my  own  heart  is  still  unsatisfied. 

PYLADES. 

Scruples  too  rigid  are  a  cloak  for  pride. 

IPHIGENIA. 

I  cannot  argue,  I  can  only  feel. 

PYLADES. 

Conscious  of  right,  thou  shouldst  respect  thyself. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  71 

IPHIGENIA. 

Then  only  doth  the  heart  know  perfect  ease, 
When  not  a  stain  pollutes  it. 

PYLADES. 

In  this  fane 
Pure  hast  thou  kept  thy  heart.     Life  teaches  us 
To  be  less  strict  with  others  and  ourselves : 
Thou'lt  learn  the  lesson  too.     So  wonderful 
Is  human  nature,  and  its  varied  ties 
Are  so  involved  and  complicate,  that  none 
May  hope  to  keep  his  inmost  spirit  pure. 
And  walk  without  perplexity  through  life. 
Nor  are  we  called  upon  to  judge  ourselves 
"With  circumspection  to  pursue  his  path, 
Is  the  immediate  duty  of  a  man  ; 
For  seldom  can  he  rightly  estimate 
Or  his  past  conduct  or  his  present  deeds. 

\  IPHIGENIA. 

Almost  thou  dost  persuade  me  to  consent. 

PYLADES. 

Needs  there  persuasion  when  no  choice  is  granted  ? 
To  save  thyself,  thy  brother,  and  a  friend, 
One  path  presents  itself ;  and  canst  thou  ask 
If  we  shall  follow  it  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Still  let  me  pause. 
For  such  injustice  thou  couldst  not  thyself 
Calmly  return  for  benefits  received. 

PYLADES. 

If  we  should  perish,  bitter  self-reproach, 
Forerunner  of  despair,  will  be  thy  portion. 


72  IPHIGENIA   IN   TAURIS 

It  seems  thou  art  not  used  to  suffer  much, 

When,  to  escape  so  great  calamity, 

Thou  canst  refuse  to  utter  one  false  word. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Oh,  that  I  bore  within  a  manly  heart ! 
Which,  when  it  hath  conceived  a  bold  resolve, 
'Gainst  every  other  voice  doth  close  itself. 

PYLADES. 

In  vain  thou  dost  refuse :  with  iron  hand 

Necessity  commands  ;  her  stern  decree 

Is  law  supreme,  to  which  the  gods  themselves 

Must  yield  submission.     In  dread  silence  rules 

The  uncounselled  sister  of  eternal  fate. 

What  she  appoints  thee  to  endure,  —  endure  ; 

What  to  perform,  —  perform.     The  rest  thou  knowest. 

Ere  long  I  will  return,  and  then  receive 

The  seal  of  safety  from  thy  sacred  hand. 


Scene  V. 

IPHIGENIA    {alone). 

I  must  obey  him,  for  I  see  my  friends 

Beset  with  peril.     Yet  my  own  sad  fate 

Doth  with  increasing  anguish  move  my  heart. 

May  I  no  longer  feed  the  silent  hope 

Which  in  my  solitude  I  fondly  cherished  ? 

Shall  the  dire  curse  eternally  endure  ? 

And  shall  our  fated  race  ne'er  rise  again 

With  blessings  crowned  ?  —  All  mortal  things  decay  ! 

The  noblest  powers,  the  purest  joys  of  life. 

At  length  subside,  —  then,  wherefore  not  the  curse  ? 

And  have  I  vainly  hoped,  that  guarded  here, 

Secluded  from  the  fortunes  of  my  race, 


IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS  73 

I,  with  pure  heart  and  hands,  some  future  day, 

Miglit  cleanse  the  deep  defilement  of  our  house  ? 

Scarce  was  my  brother  in  my  circling  arms, 

From  raging  madness  suddenly  restored. 

Scarce  had  the  ship,  long  prayed  for,  neared  the  strand, 

Once  more  to  waft  me  to  my  native  shores, 

When  unrelenting  fate,  with  iron  hand, 

A  double  crime  enjoins ;  commanding  me 

To  steal  the  image,  sacred  and  revered, 

Confided  to  my  care,  and  him  deceive 

To  whom  I  owe  my  hfe  and  destiny. 

Let  not  abhorrence  spring  within  my  heart ! 

Nor  the  old  Titan's  hate  toward  you,  ye  gods, 

Infix  its  vulture  talons  in  my  breast ! 

Save  me,  and  save  your  image  in  my  soul ! 

An  ancient  song  comes  back  upon  mine  ear, — 
I  had  forgotten  it,  and  willingly,  — 
The  Parcae's  song,  which  horribly  they  sang. 
What  time,  hurled  headlong  from  his  golden  seat, 
Fell  Tantalus.     They  with  their  noble  friend 
Keen  anguish  suffered  :  savage  was  their  breast. 
Aid  horrible  their  song.     In  days  gone  by, 
When  we  were  children,  oft  our  ancient  nurse 
Would  sing  it  to  us ;  and  I  marked  it  well. 

Oh,  fear  the  immortals, 
Ye  children  of  men  ! 
Eternal  dominion 
They  hold  in  their  hands, 
And  o'er  their  wide  empire 
Wield  absolute  sway. 

Whom  they  have  exalted 
Let  him  fear  them  most ! 
Around  golden  tables. 


74  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

On  cliffs  aud  clouds  resting, 
The  seats  are  prepared. 

If  contest  ariseth, 

The  guests  are  hurled  headlong 

Disgraced  and  dishonoured, 

To  gloomy  abysses. 

And,  fettered  in  darkness. 

Await,  with  vain  longing,  , 

A  juster  decree. 

But  in  feasts  everlasting. 
Around  the  gold  tables. 
Still  dwell  the  immortals. 
From  mountain  to  mountain 
They  stride ;  while,  ascending 
From  fathomless  chasms, 
The  breath  of  the  Titans, 
Half-stifled  with  anguish, 
Like  volumes  of  incense 
Fumes  up  to  the  skies. 

From  races  ill-fated, 
Their  aspect  joy-bringing. 
Oft  turn  the  celestials. 
And  shun  in  the  children 
To  gaze  on  the  features. 
Once-loved  and  still  speaking, 
Of  their  mighty  sire. 

So  chanted  the  Parcae : 
The  banished  one  hearkens 
The  song  ;  the  hoar  captive. 
Immured  in  his  dungeon, 
His  children's  doom  ponders, 
And  boweth  his  head. 


IPHIGENIA   !N  TAURIS  75 

ACT  V. 

Scene  I.  —  Tiioas,  Akkas. 

AREAS. 

I  OWN  I  am  perplexed,  and  scarcely  know 

'Gainst  whom  to  point  the  shaft  of  my  suspicion, — 

Whether  the  priestess  aids  the  captives'  flight, 

Or  they  themselves  clandestinely  contrive  it. 

'Tis  rumoured  that  the  ship  which  brought  them  here 

Is  lurking  somewhere  in  a  bay  concealed. 

This  stranger's  madness,  these  new  lustral  rites, 

The  specious  pretext  for  delay,  excite 

Mistrust,  and  call  aloud  for  vigilance. 

THOAS. 

Summon  the  priestess  to  attend  me  here ; 

Then  go  with  speed,  and  strictly  search  the  shore, 

From  yonder  headland  to  Diana's  grove  ; 

Forbear  to  violate  its  sacred  depths  ; 

A  watchful  ambush  set ;  attack  and  seize. 

According  to  your  wont,  whome'er  ye  find. 

(Areas  retires.) 

Scene  II. 

THOAS   {alone). 

Fierce  anger  rages  in  my  riven  breast. 
First  against  her,  whom  I  esteemed  so  pure ; 
Then  'gainst  myself,  whose  foolish  lenity 
Hath  fashioned  her  for  treason.     Man  is  soon 
Inured  to  slavery,  and  quickly  learns 
Submission,  when  of  freedom  quite  deprived. 


76  IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS 

If  she  had  fallen  in  the  savage  hands 

Of  my  rude  sires,  and  had  their  holy  rage 

Forborne  to  slay  her,  grateful  for  her  life. 

She  would  have  recognised  her  destiny, 

Have  shed  before  the  shrine  the  strangers'  blood, 

And  duty  named  what  was  necessity. 

Now  my  forbearance  in  her  breast  allures 

Audacious  wishes.     Vainly  I  had  hoped 

To  bind  her  to  me :  rather  she  contrives 

To  shape  an  independent  destiny. 

She  won  my  heart  through  flattery,  and,  now 

That  I  oppose  her,  seeks  to  gain  her  ends 

By  fraud  and  cunning,  and  my  kindness  deems 

A  worthless  and  prescriptive  property. 

Scene  III.  —  Iphigenia,  Thoas, 

IPHIGENIA. 

Me  hast  thou  summoned  ?  wherefore  art  thou  here  ? 

THOAS. 

Wherefore  delay  the  sacrifice  ?  inform  me. 

IPHIGENIA. 

I  have  acquainted  Arkas  with  the  reasons. 

THOAS. 

From  thee  I  wish  to  hear  them  more  at  large. 

IPHIGENIA. 

The  goddess  for  reflection  grants  thee  time. 

THOAS. 

To  thee  this  time  seems  also  opportune. 


IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS  77 

IPHIGENIA. 

If  to  this  cruel  deed  thy  heart  is  steeled, 
Thou  shouldst  not  come  !     A  king,  who  meditates 
A  deed  inhuman,  may  tind  slaves  enow. 
Willing  for  hire  to  bear  one-half  the  curse, 
And  leave  the  monarch's  presence  undefiled. 
Enrapt  in  gloomy  clouds  he  forges  death  : 
Flaming  destruction  then  his  ministers 
Hurl  down  upon  his  wretched  victim's  head ; 
While  he  abideth  high  above  the  storm. 
Calm  and  untroubled,  an  impassive  god. 

THOAS. 

A  wild  song,  priestess,  issued  from  thy  lips. 

IPHIGENIA. 

No  priestess,  king,  but  Agamemnon's  daughter ! 
While  yet  unknown,  thou  didst  respect  my  words ! 
A  princess  now,  —  and  thinkest  thou  to  command  me  ? 
From  youth  I  have  been  tutored  to  obey, 
My  parents  first  and  then  the  deity ; 
And,  thus  obeying,  ever  hath  my  soul 
Known  sweetest  freedom.     But  nor  then  nor  now 
Have  I  been  taught  compliance  with  the  voice 
And  savage  mandates  of  a  man. 

TIIOAS. 

Not  I : 
An  ancient  law  doth  thy  obedience  claim. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Our  passions  eagerly  catch  hold  of  laws 
Which  they  can  wield  as  weapons.     But  to  me 
Another  law,  one  far  more  ancient,  speaks, 


78  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

And  doth  command  me  to  withstand  thee,  king  ! 
That  law  declaring  sacred  every  stranger. 


THOAS. 

These  men,  methinks,  he  very  near  thy  heart, 
When  sympathy  with  them  can  lead  thee  thus 
To  violate  discretion's  primal  law. 
That  those  in  power  should  never  be  provoked. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Speaking  or  silent,  thou  canst  always  know 

What  is,  and  ever  must  be,  in  my  heart. 

Doth  not  remembrance  of  a  common  doom 

To  soft  compassion  melt  the  hardest  heart  ? 

How  much  more  mine  ?  in  them  I  see  myself. 

I  trembling  kneeled  before  the  altar  once. 

And  solemnly  the  shade  of  early  death 

Environed  me.     Aloft  the  knife  was  raised 

To  pierce  my  bosom,  throbbing  with  warm  life ; 

A  dizzy  horror  overwhelmed  my  soul ; 

My  eyes  grew  dim ;  —  I  found  myself  in  safety. 

Are  we  not  bound  to  render  the  distressed 

The  gracious  kindness  from  the  gods  received  ? 

Thou  knowest  we  are,  and  yet  wilt  thou  compel  me  ? 


THOAS. 

Obey  thine  office,  priestess,  not  the  king. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Cease  !  nor  thus  seek  to  cloak  the  savage  force 
Which  triumphs  o'er  a  woman's  feebleness. 
Though  woman,  I  am  born  as  free  as  man. 
Did  Agamemnon's  son  before  thee  stand. 


IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS  79 

And  thou  requiredst  what  became  him  not, 
His  arm  and  trusty  weapon  would  defend 
His  bosom's  freedom.     1  have  ouly  words ; 
But  it  becomes  a  noble-minded  man 
To  treat  with  due  respect  the  words  of  woman. 

THOAS. 

I  more  respect  them  than  a  brother's  sword. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Uncertain  ever  is  the  chance  of  arms ; 

No  prudent  warrior  doth  despise  his  foe ; 

Nor  yet  defenceless  'gainst  severity 

Hath  nature  left  the  weak,  —  she  gives  him  craft 

And  wily  cunning :  artful  he  delays, 

Evades,  eludes,  and  finally  escapes. 

Such  arms  are  justified  by  violence. 

THOAS. 

But  circumspection  countervails  deceit. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Wliich  a  pure  spirit  doth  abbor  to  use. 

THOAS. 

Do  not  incautiously  condemn  thyself. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Oh,  couldst  thou  see  the  struggle  of  my  soul, 
Courageously  to  ward  the  first  attack 
Of  an  unhappy  doom,  which  threatens  me ! 
Do  I,  then,  stand  before  thee  weaponless  ? 


8o  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

Prayer,  lovely  prayer,  fair  branch  in  woman's  hand, 

More  potent  far  than  instruments  of  war, 

Thou  dost  thrust  back.     What  now  remains  for  me 

Wherewith  my  inborn  freedom  to  defend  ? 

Must  I  implore  a  miracle  from  heaven  ? 

Is  there  no  power  within  my  spirit's  depths  ? 

THOAS. 

Extravagant  thy  interest  in  the  fate 

Of  these  two  strangers.     Tell  me  who  they  are 

For  whom  thy  heart  is  thus  so  deeply  moved. 

IPHIGENIA. 

They  are  —  they  seem  at  least  —  I  thinly  them  Greeks. 

THOAS. 

Thy  countrymen :  no  doubt  they  have  renewed 
The  pleasing  picture  of  return. 

IPHIGENIA  {after  a  pause). 

Doth  man 
Lay  undisputed  claim  to  noble  deeds  ? 
Doth  he  alone  to  his  heroic  breast 
Clasp  the  impossible  ?     What  call  we  great  ? 
What  deeds,  though  oft  narrated,  still  uphft 
With  shuddering  horror  the  narrator's  soul, 
But  those  which,  with  improbable  success, 
The  valiant  have  attempted  ?     Shall  the  man 
Who  all  alone  steals  on  his  foes  by  night, 
And,  raging  like  an  unexpected  fire. 
Destroys  the  slumbering  host,  and,  pressed  at  length 
By  roused  opponents  on  his  foemen's  steeds, 
Retreats  with  booty,  be  alone  extolled  ? 
Or  he  who,  scorning  safety,  boldly  roams 


IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS  8i 

Through  woods  and  dreary  wilds,  to  scour  the  land 

Of  thieves  and  robbers  ?     Is  nought  left  for  us  ? 

Must  gentle  woman  quite  forego  her  nature, 

Force  against  force  employ,  —  like  Amazons, — 

Usurp  the  sword  from  man,  and  bloodily 

Eevenge  oppression  ?     In  my  heart  I  feel 

The  stirrings  of  a  noble  enterprise  ; 

But  if  I  fail  —  severe  reproach,  alas  ! 

And  bitter  misery  will  be  my  doom. 

Thus  on  my  knees  I  supplicate  the  gods ! 

Oh,  are  ye  truthful,  as  men  say  ye  are. 

Now  prove  it  by  your  countenance  and  aid ! 

Honour  the  truth  in  me  !     Attend,  0  king ! 

A  secret  plot  deceitfully  is  laid : 

Touching  the  captives  thou  dost  ask  in  vain  ; 

They  have  departed  hence,  and  seek  their  friends. 

Who,  with  the  ship,  await  them  on  the  shore. 

The  eldest,  —  whom  dire  madness  lately  seized, 

And  hath  abandoned  now,  —  he  is  Orestes, 

My  brother,  and  the  other  Pylades, 

His  early  friend  and  faithful  confidant. 

From  Delphi,  Phoebus  sent  them  to  this  shore 

With  a  divine  command  to  steal  away 

The  image  of  Diana,  and  to  him 

Bear  back  the  sister  thither ;  and  for  this 

He  promised  to  the  blood-stained  matricide. 

The  Fury-haunted  son,  dehverance. 

I  have  surrendered  now  into  thy  hands 

The  remnants  of  the  house  of  Tantalus. 

Destroy  us  —  if  thou  canst. 


THOAS. 

And  dost  thou  think 
That  the  uncultured  Scythian  will  attend 
The  voice  of  truth  and  of  humanity 
Which  Atreus,  the  Greek,  heard  not  ? 


82  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

IPHIGENIA. 

'Tis  heard 
By  every  one,  born  'neath  whatever  dime, 
Within  whose  bosom  flows  the  stream  of  hfe, 
Pure  and  unhindered.  —  What  thy  thought  ?    0  king 
What  silent  purpose  broods  in  thy  deep  soul  ? 
Is  it  destruction  ?     Let  me  perish  first ! 
For  now,  deliverance  hopeless,  I  perceive 
The  dreadful  peril  into  which  I  have 
With  rash  precipitancy  plunged  my  friends. 
Alas !  I  soon  shall  see  them  bound  before  me ! 
How  to  my  brother  shall  I  say  farewell  ?  — 
I,  the  unhappy  author  of  his  death. 
Ne'er  can  I  gaze  again  in  his  dear  eyes ! 

THOAS. 

The  traitors  have  contrived  a  cunning  web, 
And  cast  it  round  thee,  who,  secluded  long, 
Givest  willing  credence  to  thine  own  desires. 

IPHIGENIA. 

No,  no !     I'd  pledge  my  life  these  men  are  true. 

And  shouldst  thou  find  them  otherwise,  0  king, 

Then  let  them  perish  both,  and  cast  me  forth. 

That  on  some  rock-girt  island's  dreary  shore 

I  may  atone  my  folly !     Are  they  true. 

And  is  this  man  indeed  my  dear  Orestes, 

My  brother,  long  implored,  release  us  both. 

And  o'er  us  stretch  the  kind  protecting  arm 

Which  long  hath  sheltered  me.     My  noble  sire 

Fell  through  his  consort's  guilt,  —  she  by  her  son : 

On  him  alone  the  hope  of  Atreus'  race 

Doth  now  repose.     Oh,  with  pure  heart,  pure  hand. 

Let  me  depart  to  purify  our  house  ! 

Yes,  thou  wilt  keep  thy  promise :  thou  didst  swear. 

That,  were  a  safe  return  provided  me, 


IPHIGENIA   IN   TAURIS  83 

I  should  be  free  to  go.     The  hour  is  come. 

A  king  doth  never  grant  like  common  men, 

Merely  to  gain  a  respite  from  petition ; 

Nor  promise  what  he  hopes  will  ne'er  be  claimed. 

Then  first  he  feels  his  dignity  supreme 

When  he  can  make  the  long-expecting  happy. 

THOAS. 

As  fire  opposes  water,  and  doth  seek 

With  hissing  rage  to  overcome  its  foe. 

So  doth  my  anger  strive  against  thy  words. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Let  mercy,  hke  the  consecrated  flame 
Of  silent  sacrifice,  encircled  round 
With  songs  of  gi-atitude  and  joy  and  praise, 
Above  the  tumult  gently  rise  to  heaven. 

THOAS. 

How  often  hath  this  voice  assuaged  my  soul  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Extend  thy  hand  to  me  in  sign  of  peace. 

THOAS. 

Large  thy  demand  within  so  short  a  time. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Beneficence  doth  no  reflection  need. 


THOAS. 

'Tis  needed  oft,  for  evil  springs  from  good. 


84  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

IPHIGENIA. 

'Tis  doubt  which  good  doth  oft  to  evil  turn. 
Consider  not :  act  as  thy  feelings  prompt  thee. 

Scene  IV.  —  Orestes  {armed),  Iphigenia,  Thoas. 

ORESTES  {addressing  his  followers). 

Eedouble  your  exertions  !  hold  them  back  ! 
Few  moments  will  suffice :  maintain  your  ground, 
And  keep  a  passage  open  to  the  ship 
For  me  and  for  my  sister. 

{To  Iphigenia,  without  perceiving  Thoas.) 
Come  with  speed ! 
We  are  betrayed,  —  brief  time  remains  for  flight. 

{He  perceives  the  king.) 

Thoas  (laying  his  hand  on  his  sword). 

None  in  my  presence  with  impunity 
His  naked  weapon  wears. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Do  not  profane 
Diana's  sanctuary  with  rage  and  blood. 
Command  your  people  to  forbear  awhile, 
And  listen  to  the  priestess,  to  the  sister. 

ORESTES. 

Say,  who  is  he  that  threatens  us  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

In  him 
Eevere  the  king,  who  was  my  second  father. 
Forgive  me,  brother,  that  my  childlike  heart 
Hath  placed  our  fate  thus  wholly  in  his  hands. 


IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS  85 

I  have  betrayed  your  meditated  flight, 
And  thus  from  treachery  redeemed  my  soul. 

ORESTES. 

Will  he  permit  our  peaceable  return  ? 

IPHIGENIA. 

Thy  gleaming  sword  forbids  me  to  reply. 

ORESTES  (sheathing  his  sword). 
Then,  speak !  thou  seest  I  listen  to  thy  words. 

Scene  V.  —  Orestes,  Iphigenia,  Thoas. 

Enter  Pylades,  soon  after  him  Areas,  hoth  with  draivn 

swords. 

PYLADES. 

Do  not  delay  !  our  friends  are  putting  forth 
Their  final  strength,  and,  yielding  step  by  step, 
Are  slowly  driven  backward  to  the  sea.  — 
A  conference  of  princes  find  I  here  ? 
Is  this  the  sacred  person  of  the  king  ? 

AREAS. 

Calmly,  as  doth  become  thee,  thou  dost  stand, 

O  king,  surrounded  by  thine  enemies ! 

Soon  their  temerity  shall  be  chastised : 

Their  yielding  followers  fly,  —  their  ship  is  ours : 

Speak  but  the  word,  and  it  is  wrapt  in  flames. 

thoas. 

Go,  and  command  my  people  to  forbear ! 
Let  none  annoy  the  foe  while  we  confer. 

(Areas  retires.) 


86  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

ORESTES, 

I  willingly  consent.     Go,  Pylades  ! 

Collect  the  remnant  of  our  friends,  and  wait 

The  appointed  issue  of  our  enterprise. 

(Pylades  retires.) 


Scene  VI.  —  Iphigenia,  Thoas,  Orestes. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Keheve  my  cares  ere  ye  begin  to  speak. 

I  fear  contention,  if  thou  wilt  not  hear 

The  voice  of  equity,  0  king,  —  if  thou 

Wilt  not,  my  brother,  curb  thy  headstrong  youth ! 

THOAS. 

I,  as  becomes  the  elder,  check  my  rage. 

Now  answer  me :  how  dost  thou  prove  thyself 

The  priestess'  brother,  Agamemnon's  son  ? 

ORESTES. 

Behold  the  sword  with  wliich  the  hero  slew 
The  valiant  Trojans.     From  his  murderer 
I  took  the  weapon,  and  implored  the  gods 
To  grant  me  Agamemnon's  mighty  arm, 
Success,  and  valour,  with  a  death  more  noble. 
Select  one  of  the  leaders  of  thy  host, 
And  place  the  best  as  my  opponent  here. 
Where'er  on  earth  the  sons  of  heroes  dwell, 
This  boon  is  to  the  stranger  ne'er  refused. 

THOAS. 

This  privilege  hath  ancient  custom  here 
To  strangers  ne'er  accorded. 


IPHIGENIA   IN   TAURIS  87 

ORESTES. 

Then  from  us 
Commence  the  novel  custom  !     A  whole  race 
In  imitation  soon  will  consecrate 
Its  monarch's  noble  action  into  law. 
Nor  let  me  only  for  our  liberty,  — 
Let  me,  a  stranger,  for  all  strangers  fight. 
If  I  should  fall,  my  doom  be  also  theirs ; 
But,  if  kind  fortune  crown  me  with  success. 
Let  none  e'er  tread  this  shore,  and  fail  to  meet 
The  beaming  eye  of  sympathy  and  love, 
Or  unconsoled  depart ! 

THOAS. 

Thou  dost  not  seem 
Unworthy  of  thy  boasted  ancestry. 
Great  is  the  number  of  the  valiant  men 
Who  wait  upon  me ;  but  I  will  myself. 
Although  advanced  in  years,  oppose  the  foe, 
And  am  prepared  to  try  the  chance  of  arms. 

IPHIGENIA. 

No,  no !  such  bloody  proofs  are  not  required. 
Unhand  thy  weapon,  king !  my  lot  consider  ; 
Eash  combat  oft  immortalises  man  ; 
If  he  should  fall,  he  is  renowned  in  song : 
But  after-ages  reckon  not  the  tears 
Which  ceaseless  the  forsaken  woman  sheds ; 
And  poets  tell  not  of  the  thousand  nights 
Consumed  in  weeping,  and  the  dreary  days. 
Wherein  her  anguished  soul,  a  prey  to  grief. 
Doth  vainly  yearn  to  call  her  loved  one  back. 
Fear  warned  me  to  beware  lest  robbers'  wiles 
Micfht  lure  me  from  this  sanctuarv,  and  then 
Betray  me  into  bondage.     Anxiously 


88  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

I  questioned  them,  each  circumstauce  explored, 

Demanded  proofs ;  now  is  my  heart  assured. 

See  here,  the  mark  on  his  right  hand  impressed 

As  of  three  stars,  which  on  his  natal  day 

Were  by  the  priest  declared  to  indicate 

Some  dreadful  deed  therewith  to  be  performed. 

And  then  this  scar,  which  doth  his  eyebrow  cleave, 

Redoubles  my  conviction.     When  a  child, 

Electra,  rash  and  inconsiderate,  — 

Such  was  her  nature,  —  loosed  him  from  her  arms : 

He  fell  against  a  tripos.     Oh,  'tis  he  !  — 

Shall  I  adduce  the  likeness  to  his  sire, 

Or  the  deep  rapture  of  my  inmost  heart, 

In  further  token  of  assurance,  king  ? 


THOAS. 

E'en  though  thy  words  had  banished  every  doubt. 
And  I  had  curbed  the  anger  in  my  breast, 
Still  must  our  arms  decide.     I  see  no  peace. 
Their  purpose,  as  thou  didst  thyself  confess, 
Was  to  deprive  me  of  Diana's  image. 
And  think  ye  I  will  look  contented  on  ? 
The  Greeks  are  wont  to  cast  a  longing  eye 
Upon  the  treasures  of  barbarians,  — 
A  golden  fleece,  good  steeds,  or  daughters  fair ;  — 
But  force  and  guile  not  always  have  availed 
To  lead  them,  with  their  booty,  safely  home. 


OEESTES. 

The  image  shall  not  be  a  cause  of  strife ! 
We  now  perceive  the  error  which  the  god, 
Our  journey  here  commanding,  hke  a  veil, 
Threw  o'er  our  minds.     His  counsel  I  implored, 
To  free  me  from  the  Furies'  grisly  band. 
He  answered,  "  Back  to  Greece  the  sister  bring. 


IPHIGENIA   IN  TAURIS  89 

Who  in  the  sanctuary  on  Tauris'  shore 

Unwillingly  abides;  so  ends  the  curse  !" 

To  Phoebus'  sister  we  apphed  the  words, 

And  he  referred  to  thee.     The  bonds  severe, 

Which  held  thee  from  us,  holy  one,  are  rent ; 

And  thou  art  ours  once  more.     At  thy  blest  touch, 

I  felt  myself  restored.     Within  thine  arms, 

Madness  once  more  around  me  coiled  its  folds. 

Crushing  the  marrow  in  my  frame,  and  then 

For  ever,  like  a  serpent,  fled  to  hell. 

Through  thee  the  daylight  gladdens  me  anew : 

The  counsel  of  the  goddess  now  shines  forth 

In  all  its  beauty  and  beneficence. 

Like  to  a  sacred  image,  unto  which 

An  oracle  immutably  hath  bound 

A  city's  welfare,  thee  she  bore  away, 

Protectress  of  our  house,  and  guarded  here 

Within  this  holy  stillness,  to  become 

A  blessing  to  thy  brother  and  thy  race. 

Now  when  each  passage  to  escape  seems  closed. 

And  safety  hopeless,  thou  dost  give  us  all. 

0  king,  incline  tliine  heart  to  thoughts  of  peace ! 

Let  her  fulfil  her  mission,  and  complete 

The  consecration  of  our  father's  house ; 

Me  to  their  purified  abode  restore. 

And  place  upon  my  brow  the  ancient  crown ! 

Eequite  the  blessing  which  her  presence  brought  thee. 

And  let  me  now  my  nearer  right  enjoy  ■ 

Cunning  and  force,  the  proudest  boast  of  man, 

Fade  in  the  lustre  of  her  perfect  truth ; 

Nor  unrequited  will  a  noble  mind 

Leave  confidence,  so  childlike  and  so  pure. 

IPHIGENIA. 

Think  on  thy  promise :   let  thy  heart  be  moved 
By  what  a  true  and  honest  tongue  hath  spoken ! 


90  IPHIGENIA  IN  TAURIS 

Look  on  us,  king  !  an  opportunity 

For  such  a  noble  deed  not  oft  occurs. 

Eefuse  thou  canst  not,  —  give  thy  quick  consent. 


Then,  go  ! 


THOAS. 


IPHIGENIA. 


Not  so,  my  king !     I  cannot  part 
Without  thy  blessing,  or  in  anger  from  thee : 
Banish  us  not !  the  sacred  right  of  guests 
Still  let  us  claim :   so  not  eternally 
Shall  we  be  severed.     Honoured  and  beloved 
As  mine  own  father  was,  art  thou  by  me ; 
And  this  impression  in  my  soul  abides. 
Let  but  the  least  among  thy  people  bring 
Back  to  mine  ear  the  tones  I  heard  from  thee, 
Or  should  I  on  the  humblest  see  thy  garb, 
I  will  with  joy  receive  him  as  a  god. 
Prepare  his  couch  myself,  beside  our  hearth 
Invite  him  to  a  seat,  and  only  ask 
Touching  thy  fate  and  thee.     Oh,  may  the  gods 
To  thee  the  merited  reward  impart 
Of  all  thy  kindness  and  benignity  ! 
Farewell !     Oh,  turn  thou  not  away,  but  give 
One  kindly  word  of  parting  in  return ! 
So  shall  the  wind  more  gently  swell  our  sails. 
And  from  our  eyes  with  softened  anguish  flow 
The  tears  of  separation.     Fare  thee  well ! 
And  graciously  extend  to  me  thy  hand, 
In  pledge  of  ancient  friendship. 


THOAS  {extending  his  hand). 

Fare  thee  well ! 


Torquato   Tasso 

A  Drama  in   Five  Acts 
Translated  by  Anna  Swan  wick 


This  drama  was  written  first  in  prose  :  during  Goethe's  residence 
at  Rome  in  1786-88  he  began  to  versify  it,  and  completed  it  on  his 
jovirney  home. 


Introduction 

The  annals  of  biography  offer  no  page  the  perusal  of 
which  awakens  a  greater  variety  of  emotions  than  that 
which  records  the  fate  of  Torquato  Tasso.  This  great 
poet,  distinguished  ahke  by  his  genius  and  his  misfor- 
tunes, concentrates  in  his  own  person  the  deepest  in- 
terests of  humanity ;  while  the  mystery  which  broods 
over  his  derangement  and  his  love  imparts  to  his  story 
the  air  rather  of  poetic  fiction  than  of  sober  truth, 
Goethe's  poem,  founded  upon  the  residence  of  Tasso  at 
the  court  of  Ferrara,  is  justly  celebrated  for  its  fine 
delineations  of  character  and  its  profound  insight  into 
the  depths  of  the  human  heart.  It  exhibits  a  striking 
picture  of  the  great  bard  at  the  most  momentous  period 
of  his  existence,  which  was  signalised  by  the  com- 
pletion of  his  immortal  work ;  and  though  the  action 
of  the  drama  embraces  only  a  few  hours,  by  skilfully 
availing  himself  of  retrospect  and  anticipation,  Goethe 
has  presented  us  with  a  beautiful  epitome  of  the  poet's 
life. 

Thus,  in  the  third  scene  of  the  drama,  Tasso  alludes 
to  his  early  childhood,  the  sorrows  of  which  he  has  so 
pathetically  sung :  we  accompany  the  youthful  bard,  in 
his  twenty-second  year,  to  the  brilliant  court  of  Fer- 
rara, where  he  arrived  at  a  period  when  the  nuptials 
of  the  duke  with  the  emperor's  sister  were  celebrated 
with  unrivalled  splendour.  At  the  conclusion  of  these 
festivities,  he  was  presented  by  the  Princess  Lucretia 
to  her  sister,  Leonora,  who  was  destined  to  exert  such 
a  powerful  influence  over  his  future  life :  we  behold 
him  the  honoured  and  cherished  inmate  of  Belriguardo, 

93 


94  INTRODUCTION 

a  magnificent  palace,  surrouuded  by  beautiful  gardens, 
where  the  Dukes  of  Ferrara  were  accustomed  to  retire 
with  their  most  favoured  courtiers,  and  where,  under 
the  inspiring  influences  of  love,  beauty,  and  court 
favour,  he  completed  his  "  Gerusalemme  Liberata,"  one 
of  the  proudest  monuments  of  human  genius. 

Goethe  has  with  great  skill  made  us  acquainted  with 
some  of  the  circumstances,  which,  acting  upon  the 
pecuhar  temperament  of  the  poet,  at  length  induced 
the  mental  disorder  which  cast  so  dark  a  shadow  over 
his  later  years.  His  hopeless  love  for  Leonora  no 
doubt  conspired  with  other  causes  to  unsettle  his  fine 
intellect,  —  a  calamity  which  in  him  appears  hke  the 
bewilderment  of  a  mind  suddenly  awakened  from  the 
visions  of  poetry  and  love  passionately  cherished  for  so 
many  years,  into  the  cold  realities  of  actual  life,  where 
his  too  sensitive  ear  was  stunned  by  the  harsh  and  dis- 
cordant voices  of  envy  and  superstition.  We  are  thus 
prepared  for  his  distracted  flight  from  Ferrara ;  and 
Goethe  has  introduced  prospectively  the  touching  inci- 
dent related  by  Manso,  —  how,  in  the  disguise  of  a 
shepherd,  he  presented  himself  to  his  sister  Cornelia, 
to  whom  he  related  his  story  in  language  so  pathetic, 
that  she  fainted  from  the  violence  of  her  grief. 

His  return  to  Ferrara,  his  imprisonment  in  the  Hos- 
pital of  Santa  Anna,  and  his  subsequent  miserable 
wanderings  from  city  to  city,  are  not  mentioned  in  the 
drama ;  but  the  allusion  of  Alphonso  to  the  crown 
which  should  adorn  him  on  the  Capitol,  brings  to  our 
remembrance  the  affecting  circumstances  of  his  death. 

It  appears  from  his  letters,  that,  at  one  period  of  his 
life,  he  earnestly  desired  a  triumph  similar  to  that 
which  Petrarca  had  enjoyed ;  but  when  at  length  this 
honour  was  accorded  him,  when  a  period  was  assigned 
for  this  splendid  pageant,  a  change  had  come  over  his 
spirit.  His  long  sufferings  had  weaned  his  thoughts 
from  earth :  he  felt  that  the  hand  of  death  was  upon 


INTRODUCTION  95 

him,  and  hoped  —  to  use  his  own  words  — "  to  go 
crowned,  not  as  a  poet  to  the  Capitol,  but  with  glory 
as  a  saint  to  heaven."  On  the  eve  of  the  day  appointed 
for  the  ceremony,  he  expired  at  the  monastery  of  St. 
Onofrio;  and  his  remains,  habited  in  a  magnificent 
toga,  and  adorned  with  a  laurel  crown,  were  carried  in 
procession  through  the  streets  of  Rome. 

Goethe  has  faithfully  portrayed  the  times  in  which 
Tasso  lived  ;  and  circumstances  apparently  trivial  have 
an  historical  significance,  and  impart  an  air  of  reality 
to  the  drama.  Thus  the  fanciful  occupation  and  pic- 
turesque attire  of  the  princess  and  countess  at  the  open- 
ing of  the  piece  transport  us  at  once  to  that  graceful 
court  where  the  pastoral  drama  was  invented  and  re- 
fined, and  where,  not  long  before,  Tasso's  "  Aminta," 
which  is  considered  one  of  the  most  beautiful  spec- 
imens of  this  species  of  composition,  had  been  per- 
formed for  the  first  time  with  enthusiastic  applause. 

The  crown  adorning  the  bust  of  Ariosto,  together 
with  the  enthusiastic  admiration  expressed  for  that 
poet  by  Antonio,  is  likewise  characteristic  of  the  age. 
The  "  Orlando  Furioso "  had  been  composed  at  the 
same  court  about  fifty  years  before,  and  had  become  so 
universally  popular,  that,  according  to  Bernardo  Tasso, 
the  father  of  Torquato,  "  neither  learned  man  nor 
artisan,  no  youth,  no  maid,  no  old  man  could  be  satis- 
fied with  a  single  perusal:  passengers  in  the  streets, 
sailors  in  their  boats,  and  virgins  in  their  chambers 
sang  for  their  disport  the  stanzas  of  Ariosto."  ^ 

The  project  of  dethroning  this  monarch  of  Parnassus, 
or,  at  least,  of  placing  upon  his  own  brow  a  crown  as 
glorious,  appears  from  his  own  letters  early  to  have 
awakened  the  ambition  of  Tasso. 

The  subordinate   characters   of  the  drama  are  also 
historical  portraits.     Alphonso    II.  is  represented    by 
his  biographers  as  the  liberal  patron  of  the  arts,  and  as 
1  Black's  "  Life  of  Tasso." 


96  INTRODUCTION 

treating  Tasso  at  this  period  with  marked  consider- 
ation ;  nor  had  he  yet  manifested  that  implacable  and 
revengeful  spirit  which  has  rendered  his  memory  justly 
hateful  to  posterity.  In  the  relation  which  subsisted 
between  this  prince  and  Tasso,  Goethe  has  exhibited 
the  evils  resulting  from  the  false  spirit  of  patronage 
prevalent  at  that  period  throughout  Italy,  when  talent 
was  regarded  as  the  necessary  appendage  of  rank,  and 
works  of  genius  were  considered  as  belonging  rather  to 
the  patron  than  to  the  individual  by  whom  they  had 
been  produced. 

Antonio  Montecatino,  the  duke's  secretary,  is  also 
drawn  from  life.  He  is  an  admirable  personification 
of  that  spirit  of  worldly  wisdom  which  looks  prin- 
cipally to  material  results  and  contemplates  promotion 
and  court  favour  as  the  highest  object  of  ambition. 
This  "  earth-born  prudence,"  having  httle  sympathy 
with  poetic  genius,  affects  to  treat  it  with  contempt, 
resents  as  presumptuous  its  violation  of  ordinary  rules, 
holds  up  its  foibles  and  eccentricities  to  ridicule,  and 
at  the  same  time  envies  the  homage  paid  to  it  by  man- 
kind. 

At  the  period  of  the  drama,  the  court  of  Ferrara  was 
graced  by  the  presence  of  Leonora,  Countess  of  Scan- 
diano,  in  whom  Goethe  has  portrayed  a  woman  em- 
inently graceful  and  accomplished,  but  wdio  fails  to 
win  our  sympathy  because  her  ruhng  sentiment  is 
vanity.  Tasso  paid  to  this  young  beauty  the  tribute  of 
public  homage,  and  addressed  to  her  some  of  his  most 
beautiful  sonnets :  according  to  Gingu^n^,  however,  his 
sentiment  for  her  was  merely  poetical,  and  could  easily 
ally  itself  with  the  more  genuine,  deep,  and  constant 
affection  which  he  entertained  for  Leonora  of  Este. 

Lucretia  and  Leonora  of  Este  were  the  daughters  of 
Een^e  of  France,  celebrated  for  her  insatiable  thirst  for 
knowledge,  and  for  the  variety  and  depth  of  her  studies. 
She  became  zealously  attached  to  the  tenets  of  the  Ee- 


INTRODUCTION  97 

formers,  in  consequence  of  which  she  was  deprived  of 
her  children  and  closely  imprisoned  for  twelve  years. 
To  the  intellectual  power,  the  knowledge,  heresy, 
and  consequent  misfortunes  of  her  unhappy  mother, 
the  Princess  Leonora  twice  alludes  in  the  course  of  the 
drama.  The  daughters  of  this  heroic  woman  inherited 
her  mental  superiority ;  and  Leonora,  the  younger,  is 
celebrated  by  various  writers  for  her  genius,  learning, 
beauty,  and  early  indifference  to  the  pleasures  of  the 
world. 


Dramatis  Personae 

Alphonso  II.,  Duke  of  Ferrara. 
Leonora  D'Este,  Sixter  to  the  Duke. 
Leonora  Sanvitale,  Countess  of  Scandiano. 

TORQUATO  TaSSO. 

Antonio  Montecatino,  Secretary  of  State. 


Torquato   Tasso 


ACT   I. 


Scene  I.  —  A  Garden  adorned  with  busts  of  the  Epic 
Poets.  To  the  right  a  bust  of  Virgil ;  to  the  left, 
one  of  Ariosto.  Princess  and  Leonoka,  habited 
as  shepherdesses. 


princess. 


Smiling  thou  dost  survey  me,  Leonora ; 
And  with  a  smile  thou  dost  survey  thyself. 
What  is  it  ?     Let  a  friend  partake  thy  thought ! 
Thou  seemest  pensive,  yet  thou  seemest  pleased. 


LEONORA. 

Yes,  I  am  pleased,  my  princess,  to  behold 
Us  twain  in  rural  fashion  thus  attired. 
Two  happy  shepherd-maidens  we  appear. 
And  like  the  happy  we  are  both  employed. 
Garlands  we  wreathe :  this  one,  so  gay  with  flowers, 
Beneath  my  hand  in  varied  beauty  grows ; 
Thou  hast  with  higher  taste  and  larger  heart 
The  slender  pliant  laurel  made  thy  choice. 

99 


lOO  TORQUATO  TASSO 


PKINCESS. 


The  laurel  wreath,  which  aimlessly  I  twined, 
Hath  found  at  once  a.  not  unworthy  head  : 
I  place  it  gratefully  on  Virgil's  brow. 

(^She  crowns  the  bust  of  Virgil.) 

LEONOEA. 

With  my  full  joyous  wreath  the  lofty  brow 
Of  Master  Ludovico  thus  I  crown  — 

(She  crowns  the  bust  of  Ariosto.) 
Let  him  whose  sportive  salhes  never  fade 
Eeceive  his  tribute  from  the  early  spring. 

PKINCESS. 

My  brother  is  most  kind,  to  bring  us  here 
In  this  sweet  season  to  our  rural  haunts : 
Here,  by  the  hour,  in  freedom  unrestrained, 
"We  may  dream  back  the  poet's  golden  age. 
I  love  this  Belriguardo :  in  my  youth 
Full  many  a  joyous  day  I  lingered  here ; 
And  this  bright  sunshine,  and  this  verdant  green, 
Bring  back  the  feelings  of  that  bygone  time. 


LEONORA. 

Yes  :  a  new  world  surrounds  us  !     Grateful  now 
The  cooling  shelter  of  these  evergreens. 
The  tuneful  murmur  of  this  gurgling  spring 
Once  more  revives  us.     In  the  morning  wind 
The  tender  branches  waver  to  and  fro. 
The  flowers  look  upwards  from  their  lowly  beds. 
And  smile  upon  us  with  their  childlike  eyes. 
The  gardener,  fearless  grown,  removes  the  roof 
That  screened  his  citron  and  his  orange  trees ; 
The  azure  dome  of  heaven  above  us  rests ; 


TORQUATO  TASSO  loi 


And,  in  the  far  horizon,  from  the  hills 
The  snow  in  balmy  vapour  melts  away. 


PRINCESS. 


Most  welcome  were  to  me  the  genial  spring, 
Did  it  not  lead  my  friend  away  from  me. 


LEONORA. 


My  princess,  in  these  sweet  and  tranquil  hours, 
Kemind  me  not  how  soon  I  must  depart. 


PRINCESS. 

Yon  mighty  city  will  restore  to  thee. 

In  double  measure,  what  thou  leavest  here. 

LEONORA. 

The  voice  of  duty  and  the  voice  of  love 
Both  call  me  to  my  lord,  forsaken  long. 
I  bring  to  him  his  son,  who  rapidly 
Hath  grown  in  stature,  and  matured  in  mind, 
Since  last  they  met :  I  share  his  father's  joy. 
Florence  is  great  and  noble,  but  the  worth 
Of  all  her  treasured  riches  doth  not  reach 
The  prouder  jewels  that  Ferrara  boasts. 
That  city  to  her  people  owes  her  power : 
Ferrara  grew  to  greatness  through  her  princes. 

PRINCESS. 

More  through  the  noble  men  whom  chance  led  here, 
And  who  in  sweet  communion  here  remained. 

LEONORA. 

Chance  doth  again  disperse  what  chance  collects : 
A  noble  nature  can  alone  attract 


I02  TORQUATO  TASSO 

The  noble,  and  retain  them,  as  ye  do. 

Around  thy  brother,  and  around  thyself, 

Assemble  spirits  worthy  of  you  both ; 

And  ye  are  worthy  of  your  noble  sires. 

Here  the  fair  hght  of  science  and  free  thought 

Was  kindled  first,  while  o'er  the  darkened  world 

Still  hung  barbarian  gloom.     E'en  when  a  child 

The  names  resounded  loudly  in  mine  ear, 

Of  Hercules  and  Hippolyte  of  Este. 

My  father  oft  with  Florence  and  with  Rome 

Extolled  Ferrara  !     Oft  in  youthful  dream 

Hither  I  fondly  turned :  now  am  I  here. 

Here  was  Petrarca  kindly  entertained, 

And  Ariosto  found  his  models  here. 

Itaha  boasts  no  great,  no  mighty  name. 

This  princely  mansion  hath  not  called  its  guest. 

In  fostering  genius  we  enrich  ourselves  : 

Dost  thou  present  her  with  a  friendly  gift, 

One  far  more  beautiful  she  leaves  with  thee. 

The  ground  is  hallowed  where  the  good  man  treads 

When  centuries  have  rolled,  his  sons  shall  hear 

The  deathless  echo  of  his  words  and  deeds. 


PRINCESS. 

Yes,  if  those  sons  have  feelings  quick  as  thine 
This  happiness  full  oft  I  envy  thee. 


LEONORA. 

Which  purely  and  serenely  thou,  my  friend. 

As  few  beside  thee,  dost  thyself  enjoy. 

When  my  full  heart  impels  me  to  express 

Promptly  and  freely  what  I  keenly  feel. 

Thou  feelest  the  while  more  deeply,  and  —  art  silent. 

Delusive  splendour  doth  not  dazzle  thee, 

Nor  wit  beguile ;  and  flattery  strives  in  vain 


TORQUATO  TASSO  103 

With  fawning  artifice  to  win  thine  ear : 
Firm  is  thy  temper,  and  correct  thy  taste, 
Thy  judgment  just ;  and,  truly  great  thyself, 
With  greatness  thou  dost  ever  sympathise. 

PRINCESS. 

Thou  shouldst  not  to  this  highest  flattery 
The  garment  of  confiding  friendship  lend. 

LEONORA. 

Friendship  is  just :  she  only  estimates 
The  full  extent  and  measure  of  thy  worth. 
Let  me  ascribe  to  opportunity, 
To  fortune  too,  her  portion  in  thy  culture, 
Still  in  the  end  thou  hast  it,  it  is  thine  ; 
And  all  extol  thy  sister  and  thyself 
Before  the  noblest  women  of  the  age. 

PRINCESS. 

That  can  but  little  move  me,  Leonora, 

Wlien  I  reflect  how  poor  at  best  we  are. 

To  others  more  indebted  than  ourselves. 

My  knowledge  of  the  ancient  languages. 

And  of  the  treasures  by  the  past  bequeathed, 

I  owe  my  mother,  who,  in  varied  lore 

And  mental  power,  her  daughters  far  excelled. 

Might  either  claim  comparison  with  her, 

'Tis  undeniably  Lucretia's  right. 

Besides,  what  nature  and  what  chance  bestowed 

As  property  or  rank  I  ne'er  esteemed. 

'Tis  pleasure  to  me  when  the  wise  converse. 

That  I  their  scope  and  meaning  comprehend. 

Whether  they  judge  a  man  of  bygone  times 

And  weigh  his  actions,  or  of  science  treat, 

Which,  when  extended  and  applied  to  life, 


I04  TORQUATO  TASSO 

At  once  exalts  and  benefits  mankind. 

Where'er  the  converse  of  such  men  may  lead, 

1  follow  gladly,  for  with  ease  I  follow. 

Well  pleased  the  strife  of  argument  I  hear, 

When,  round  the  powers  that  sway  the  human  breast, 

Waking  alternately  delight  and  fear, 

With  grace  the  lip  of  eloquence  doth  play ; 

And  listen  gladly  when  the  princely  thirst 

Of  fame,  of  wide  dominion,  forms  the  theme, 

When  of  an  able  man,  the  thought  profound, 

Developed  skilfully  with  subtle  tact, 

Doth  not  perplex  and  dazzle,  but  instruct. 

LEONOEA. 

And  then,  this  grave  and  serious  converse  o'er. 
Our  ear  and  inner  mind  with  tranquil  joy 
Upon  the  poet's  tuneful  verse  repose. 
Who,  through  the  medium  of  harmonious  sounds, 
Infuses  sweet  emotions  in  the  soul. 
Thy  lofty  spirit  grasps  a  wide  domain  : 
Content  am  I  to  linger  in  the  isle 
Of  poesy,  her  laurel  groves  among. 

PEINCESS. 

In  this  fair  land,  I'm  told,  the  myrtle  blooms 
In  richer  beauty  than  all  other  trees : 
Here,  too,  the  Muses  wander ;  yet  we  seek 
A  friend  and  playmate  'mong  their  tuneful  choir 
Less  often  than  we  seek  to  meet  the  bard. 
Who  seems  to  shun  us,  —  nay,  appears  to  flee 
In  quest  of  something  that  we  know  not  of, 
And  which,  perchance,  is  to  himself  unknown. 
How  charming  were  it,  if,  in  happy  hour 
Encountering  us,  he  should  with  ecstasy 
In  our  fair  selves  the  treasure  recognise, 
Which  in  the  world  he  long  had  sought  in  vain ! 


TORQUATO  TASSO  105 


LEONOIIA. 


To  your  light  raillery  I  must  submit : 
So  light  its  touch  it  passeth  harmless  by. 
I  honour  all  men  after  their  desert, 
And  am  in  truth  toward  Tasso  only  just. 
His  eye  scarce  lingers  on  this  earthly  scene 
To  nature's  harmony  his  ear  is  tuned. 
What  history  offers,  and  what  life  presents, 
His  bosom  promptly  and  with  joy  receives: 
The  widely  scattered  is  by  him  combined, 
And  his  quick  feeling  animates  the  dead. 
Oft  he  ennobles  what  we  count  for  nought : 
What  others  treasure  is  by  him  despised. 
Thus  moving  in  his  own  enchanted  sphere. 
The  wondrous  man  doth  still  allure  us  on 
To  wander  with  him  and  partake  his  joy : 
Though  seeming  to  approach  us,  he  remains 
Kemote  as  ever ;  and  perchance  his  eye. 
Besting  on  us,  sees  spirits  in  our  place. 

PKINCESS. 

Thou  hast  with  taste  and  truth  portrayed  the  bard. 

Who  hovers  in  the  shadowy  realm  of  dreams. 

And  yet  reality,  it  seems  to  me, 

Hath  also  power  to  lure  him  and  enchain. 

In  the  sweet  sonnets,  scattered  here  and  there, 

With  which  we  sometimes  find  our  trees  adorned, 

Creating  hke  the  golden  fruit  of  old 

A  new  Hesperia,  perceivest  thou  not 

The  gentle  tokens  of  a  genuine  love  ? 

LEONOKA. 

In  these  fair  leaves  I  also  take  delight. 
With  all  his  rich  diversity  of  thought 
He  glorifies  one  form  in  all  his  strains. 
Now  he  exalts  her  to  the  starry  heavens 


io6  TORQUATO  TASSO 

In  radiant  glory,  and  before  that  form 
Bows  down,  like  angels  in  the  realms  above. 
Then,  steahng  after  her  through  silent  fields. 
He  garlands  in  his  wreath  each  beauteous  flower ; 
And,  should  the  form  he  worships  disappear. 
Hallows  the  path  her  gentle  foot  hath  trod. 
Thus  like  the  nightingale,  concealed  in  shade, 
From  his  love-laden  breast  he  fills  the  air 
And  neighbouring  thickets  with  melodious  plaints 
His  blissful  sadness  and  his  tuneful  grief 
Charm  every  ear,  enrapture  every  heart  — 


PKINCESS. 

And  Leonora  is  the  favoured  name 
Selected  for  the  object  of  his  strains. 

LEONORA. 

Thy  name  it  is,  my  princess,  as  'tis  mine. 
It  would  displease  me  were  it  otherwise. 
Now  I  rejoice  that  under  this  disguise 
He  can  conceal  his  sentiment  for  thee. 
And  am  no  less  contented  with  the  thought 
That  this  sweet  name  should  also  picture  me. 
Here  is  no  question  of  an  ardent  love. 
Seeking  possession,  and  with  jealous  care 
Screening  its  object  from  another's  gaze. 
While  he  enraptured  contemplates  thy  worth, 
He  in  my  lighter  nature  may  rejoice. 
He  loves  not  us,  —  forgive  me  what  I  say,  — 
His  loved  ideal  from  the  spheres  he  brings, 
And  doth  invest  it  with  the  name  we  bear : 
His  feeling  we  participate  ;  we  seem 
To  love  the  man,  yet  only  love  in  him 
The  highest  object  that  can  claim  our  love. 


TORQL'ATO  TASSO  lo? 


PRINCESS. 

In  this  deep  science  thou  art  deeply  versed, 

My  Leonora  ;  and  thy  words  in  truth 

Play  on  my  ear,  yet  scarcely  reach  my  soul. 

LEONORA. 

Thou  Plato's  pupil !   and  not  comprehend 
"What  a  mere  novice  dares  to  prattle  to  thee  ? 
It  must  be,  then,  that  I  have  widely  erred ; 
Yet  well  I  know  I  do  not  wholly  err. 
For  love  doth  in  this  graceful  school  appear 
No  longer  as  the  spoilt  and  wayward  child : 
He  is  the  youth  whom  Psyche  hath  espoused. 
Who  sits  in  council  with  the  assembled  gods. 
He  hath  relinquished  passion's  fickle  sway : 
He  clings  no  longer  with  delusion  sweet 
To  outward  form  and  beauty,  to  atone 
For  brief  excitement  by  disgust  and  hate. 

PRINCESS. 

Here  comes  my  brother  !  let  us  not  betray 
Whither  our  converse  hath  conducted  us ; 
Else  we  shall  have  his  raillery  to  bear. 
As  in  our  dress  he  found  a  theme  for  jest. 


Scene   II.  —  Princess,  Leonora,  Alphonso. 

ALPHONSO. 

Tasso  I  seek,  whom  nowhere  I  can  find ; 
And  even  here,  with  you,  I  meet  him  not. 
Can  you  inform  me  where  he  hides  himself  ? 

princess. 
I  have  scarce  seen  him  for  the  last  two  days. 


io8  TORQUATO  TASSO 

ALPHONSO. 

'Tis  his  habitual  failing  that  he  seeks 
Seclusion  rather  than  society. 
I  can  forgive  him  when  the  motley  crowd 
Thus  studiously  he  shuns,  and  loves  to  hold 
Free  converse  with  himself  in  solitude  ; 
Yet  can  I  not  approve,  that  he  should  thus 
Also  the  circle  of  his  friends  avoid. 


LEONOKA. 

If  I  mistake  not,  thou  wilt  soon,  0  prince ! 

Convert  this  censure  into  joyful  praise. 

To-day  I  saw  him  from  afar  :  he  held 

A  book  and  scroll,  in  which  at  times  he  wrote, 

And  then  resumed  his  walk,  then  wrote  again. 

A  passing  word,  which  yesterday  he  spoke, 

Seemed  to  announce  to  me  his  work  complete : 

His  sole  anxiety  is  now  to  add 

A  finished  beauty  to  minuter  parts, 

That  to  your  Grace,  to  whom  he  owes  so  much, 

A  worthy  offering  he  at  length  may  bring. 


ALPHONSO. 

A  welcome,  when  he  brings  it,  shall  be  his, 
And  long  immunity  from  all  restraint. 
Great,  in  proportion  to  the  lively  joy 
And  interest  which  his  noble  work  inspires. 
Is  my  impatience  at  its  long  delay. 
After  each  slow  advance  he  leaves  his  task : 
He  ever  changeth,  and  can  ne'er  conclude, 
Till  baffled  hope  is  weary ;  for  we  see 
Eeluctantly  postponed  to  times  remote 
A  pleasure  we  had  fondly  deemed  so  near. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  109 


PRINCESS. 


I  rather  praise  the  modesty,  the  care, 

With  which  thus,  step  by  step,  he  nears  the  goal. 

His  aim  is  not  to  string  amusing  tales. 

Or  weave  harmonious  numbers,  which  at  length. 

Like  words  delusive,  die  upon  the  ear. 

His  numerous  rhymes  he  labours  to  combine 

Into  one  beautiful,  poetic  whole ; 

And  he  whose  soul  this  lofty  aim  inspires. 

Must  pay  devoted  homage  to  the  Muse. 

Disturb  him  not,  my  brother :  time  alone 

Is  not  the  measure  of  a  noble  work ; 

And,  is  the  coming  age  to  share  our  joy. 

We  of  the  present  must  forget  ourselves. 

ALPHONSO. 

Let  us,  dear  sister,  work  together  here, 
As  for  our  mutual  good  we  oft  have  done. 
Am  I  too  eager  —  thou  must  then  restrain  ; 
Art  thou  too  gentle  —  I  will  urge  him  on. 
Then  we  perchance  shall  see  him  at  the  goal, 
Where  to  behold  him  we  have  wished  in  vain. 
His  fatherland,  the  world,  shall  then  admire 
And  view  with  wonder  his  completed  work. 
I  shall  receive  my  portion  of  the  fame. 
And  Tasso  will  be  ushered  into  hfe. 
In  a  contracted  sphere,  a  noble  man 
Cannot  develop  all  his  mental  powers. 
On  him  Ms  country  and  the  world  must  work. 
He  must  endure  both  censure  and  applause. 
Must  be  compelled  to  estimate  aright 
Himself  and  others.     Sohtude  no  more 
Lulls  him  delusively  with  flattering  dreams. 
Opponents  will  not,  friendship  dare  not,  spare : 
Then  in  the  strife  the  youth  puts  forth  his  powers, 
Knows  what  he  is,  and  feels  himself  a  man. 


no  TORQUATO  TASSO 

LEONOEA. 

Thus  will  he,  prince,  owe  everything  to  thee, 
Who  hast  already  done  so  much  for  him. 
Talents  are  nurtured  best  in  solitude,  — 
A  character  on  life's  tempestuous  sea. 
Oh  that  according  to  thy  rules  he  would 
Model  his  temper  as  he  forms  his  taste, 
Cease  to  avoid  mankind,  nor  in  his  breast 
Nurture  suspicion  into  fear  and  hate  ! 

ALPHONSO. 

He  only  fears  mankind  who  knows  them  not, 

And  he  will  soon  misjudge  them  who  avoids. 

This  is  his  case,  and  so  by  slow  degrees 

His  noble  mind  is  trammelled  and  perplexed. 

Thus  to  secure  my  favour  he  betrays, 

At  times,  unseemly  ardour ;  against  some. 

Who,  I  am  well  assured,  are  not  his  foes, 

He  cherishes  suspicion ;  if  by  chance 

A  letter  go  astray,  a  hireling  leave 

His  service,  or  a  paper  be  mislaid, 

He  sees  deception,  treachery,  and  fraud. 

Working  insidiously  to  sap  his  peace. 

PRINCESS. 

Let  us,  beloved  brother,  not  forget 
That  his  own  nature  none  can  lay  aside. 
And  should  a  friend,  who  with  us  journeyeth, 
Injure  by  chance  his  foot,  we  would  in  sooth 
Rather  relax  our  speed,  and  lend  our  hand 
Gently  to  aid  the  sufferer  on  his  way. 

ALPHONSO. 

Better  it  were  to  remedy  his  pain. 
With  the  physician's  aid  attempt  a  cure, 


TORQUATO  TASSO  lii 

Then  with  our  healed  and  renovated  friend 
A  new  career  of  Hfe  with  joy  pursue. 
And  yet,  dear  friends,  I  hope  that  I  may  ne'er 
The  censure  of  the  cruel  leech  incur. 
I  do  my  utmost  to  impress  his  mind 
With  feelings  of  security  and  trust. 
Oft  purposely,  in  presence  of  the  crowd, 
With  marks  of  favour  I  distinguish  him. 
Should  he  complain  of  aught,  I  sift  it  well, 
As  lately  when  his  chamber  he  supposed 
Had  been  invaded ;  then,  should  nought  appear, 
I  calmly  show  him  how  I  view  the  affair. 
And,  as  we  ought  to  practise  every  grace 
With  Tasso,  seeing  he  deserves  it  well, 
I  practise  patience :  you,  I'm  sure,  will  aid. 
I  now  have  brought  you  to  your  rural  haunts, 
And  must  myself  at  eve  return  to  town. 
For  a  few  moments  you  will  see  Antonio : 
He  calls  here  for  me  on  his  way  from  Rome. 
We  have  important  business  to  discuss. 
Resolves  to  frame,  and  letters  to  indite, 
All  which  compels  me  to  return  to  town. 


PRINCESS. 

Wilt  thou  permit  that  we  return  with  thee  ? 

ALPHONSO. 

Nay :  rather  linger  here  in  Belriguardo, 

Or  go  together  to  Consandoli ; 

Enjoy  these  lovely  days  as  fancy  prompts. 

PRINCESS. 

Thou  canst  not  stay  with  us  ?     Not  here  arrange 
All  these  affairs  as  well  as  in  the  town  ? 


112  TORQUATO  TASSO 


LEONORA. 

So  soon,  thou  takest  hence  Antonio,  too, 
Who  hath  so  much  to  tell  us  touching  Rome. 


ALPHONSO. 

It  may  not  be,  ye  children :  but  with  him 

So  soon  as  possible  will  I  return  ; 

Then  shall  he  tell  you  all  ye  wish  to  hear. 

And  ye  shall  help  me  to  reward  the  man, 

Who,  in  my  cause,  hath  laboured  with  such  zeal. 

And,  w^hen  we  shall  once  more  have  talked  our  fill, 

Hither  the  crowd  may  come,  that  mirth  and  joy 

May  in  our  gardens  revel,  that  for  me, 

As  is  but  meet,  some  fair  one  in  the  shade 

May,  if  I  seek  her,  gladly  meet  me  there. 

LEONORA. 

And  we  meanwhile  will  kindly  shut  our  eyes. 

ALPHONSO. 

Ye  know  that  I  can  be  forbearing  too. 

PRINCESS  {turned  toward  the  scene), 

I  long  have  noticed  Tasso ;  hitherward 
Slowly  lie  bends  his  footsteps  ;  suddenly, 
As  if  irresolute,  he  standeth  still ; 
Anon,  with  greater  speed  he  draweth  near, 
Then  lingers  once  again. 

ALPHONSO. 

Disturb  him  not. 
Nor,  when  the  poet  dreams  and  versifies. 
Intrude  upon  his  musings :  let  him  roam. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  113 

LEONOKA. 
No :  he  has  seen  us,  and  he  comes  this  way. 


Scene  III.  —  Pkincess,  Leonora,  Alphonso,  Tasso 
(with  a  volume  hound  in  parchment). 

TASSO. 

Slowly  I  come  to  bring  my  work  to  thee, 
And  yet  I  linger  ere  presenting  it. 
Although  apparently  it  seems  complete, 
Too  well  I  know,  it  is  unfinished  still. 
But,  if  I  cherished  once  an  anxious  fear 
Lest  I  should  bring  thee  an  imperfect  work, 
A  new  solicitude  constrains  me  now : 
I  would  not  seem  ungrateful,  nor  appear 
Unduly  anxious ;  and  as  to  his  friends, 
A  man  can  say  but  simply,  "  Here  I  am ! " 
That  they,  with  kind  forbearance,  may  rejoice, 
So  I  can  only  say,  "  Eeceive  my  work  ! " 

(He  presents  the  volume.) 

ALPHONSO. 

Thou  hast  surprised  me,  Tasso,  with  thy  gift, 

And  made  this  lovely  day  a  festival. 

I  hold  it,  then,  at  length  within  my  hands. 

And  in  a  certain  sense  can  call  it  mine. 

Long  have  I  wished  that  thou  couldst  thus  resolve, 

And  say  at  length,  "  'Tis  finished  !  here  it  is." 

TASSO. 

Are  you  contented  ?  then  it  is  complete. 
For  it  belongs  to  you  in  every  sense. 
Were  I  to  contemplate  the  pains  bestowed, 
Or  dwell  upon  the  written  character, 


114  TORQUATO  TASSO 

I  might,  perchance,  exclaim,  "  This  work  is  mine ! " 

But  when  I  mark  what  'tis  that  to  my  song 

Its  inner  worth  and  dignity  imparts, 

I  humbly  feel  I  owe  it  all  to  you. 

If  Nature  from  her  hberal  stores  on  me 

The  genial  gift  of  poesy  bestowed, 

Capricious  Fortune,  with  malignant  power, 

Had  thrust  me  from  her ;  though  this  beauteous  world 

With  all  its  varied  splendour  lured  the  boy, 

Too  early  was  his  youthful  eye  bedimmed 

By  his  loved  parents'  undeserved  distress. 

Forth  from  my  lips,  when  I  essayed  to  sing, 

There  ever  flowed  a  melancholy  song ; 

And  I  accompanied,  with  plaintive  tones, 

My  father's  sorrow  and  my  mother's  grief. 

'Twas  thou  alone,  who,  from  this  narrow  sphere, 

Raised  me  to  glorious  liberty,  relieved 

From  each  depressing  care  my  youthful  mind, 

And  gave  me  freedom,  in  whose  genial  air 

My  spirit  could  unfold  in  harmony : 

Then,  whatsoe'er  the  merit  of  the  work. 

Thine  be  the  praise,  for  it  belongs  to  thee. 

ALPHONSO. 

A  second  time  thou  dost  deserve  applause, 
And  honourest  modestly  thyself  and  us. 


TASSO. 

Fain  would  I  say  how  sensibly  I  feel 
That  what  I  bring  is  all  derived  from  thee  ! 
The  inexperienced  youth  —  could  he  produce 
The  poem  from  his  own  unfurnished  mind  ? 
Could  he  invent  the  conduct  of  the  war, 
The  gallant  bearing  and  the  martial  skill 
Which  every  hero  on  the  field  displayed, 


'f  /<i  q'liinifiq  arij  moil  :>iiiV£igoJodS[ 


ffl7 


s  to  thee. 


"  This  single  moment  is  enough  for  me  " 

Photogravure  from  the  painting  by  F.  Barth 


TORQUATO  TASSO  iiS 

The  leader's  prudence,  and  his  followers'  zeal, 
How  vigilance  the  arts  of  cunning  foiled, 
Hadst  thou  not,  valiant  prince,  infused  it  all, 
As  if  my  guardian  genius  thou  hadst  been. 
Through  a  mere  mortal  deigning  to  reveal 
His  nature  high  and  inaccessible  ? 

PRINCESS. 

Enjoy  the  work  in  which  we  all  rejoice ! 

ALPHONSO. 

Enjoy  the  approbation  of  the  good ! 

LEONORA. 

Eejoice,  too,  in  thy  universal  fame  ! 

TASSO. 

This  single  moment  is  enough  for  me. 

Of  you  alone  I  thought  while  I  composed : 

You  to  delight  was  still  my  highest  wish, 

You  to  enrapture  was  my  final  aim. 

Who  doth  not  in  his  friends  behold  the  world, 

Deserves  not  that  of  him  the  world  should  hear. 

Here  is  my  fatherland,  and  here  the  sphere 

In  which  my  spirit  fondly  loves  to  dwell ; 

Here  I  attend  and  value  every  hint ; 

Here  speak  experience,  knowledge,  and  true  taste ; 

Here  stand  the  present  and  the  future  age. 

With  shy  reserve  the  artist  shuns  the  crowd : 

Its  judgment  but  perplexes.     Those  alone 

With  minds  like  yours  can  understand  and  feel, 

And  such  alone  should  censure  and  reward ! 

ALPHONSO. 

If  thus  the  present  and  the  future  age 
We  represent,  it  is  not  meet  that  we 


ii6  TORQUATO  TASSO 

Eeceive  the  poet's  song  unrecompensed. 
The  laurel  wreath,  fit  chaplet  for  the  bard, 
Which  e'en  the  hero,  who  requires  his  verse, 
Sees  without  envy  round  his  temples  twined, 
Adorns,  thou  seest,  thy  predecessor's  brow. 

{Pointing  to  the  bust  of  Virgil.) 
Hath  chance,  hath  some  kind  genius,  twined  the  wreath, 
And  brought  it  hither  ?     Not  in  vain  it  thus 
Presents  itself  :  Virgil  I  hear  exclaim, 
"  Wherefore  confer  this  honour  on  the  dead  ? 
They  in  their  hfetime  had  reward  and  joy : 
Do  ye  indeed  revere  the  bards  of  old  ? 
Then,  to  the  hving  bard  accord  his  due. 
My  marble  statue  hath  been  amply  crowned, 
And  the  green  laurel  branch  belongs  to  life." 

(Alphonso  makes  a  sign  to  his  sister ;  she  takes 
the  crown  from  the  bust  of  Virgil,  and  ap- 
proaches Tasso  ;  he  steps  hack) 

LEONORA. 

Thou  dost  refuse  ?     Seest  thou  what  hand  the  wreath, 
The  fair,  the  never-fading  wreath,  presents  ? 

TASSO. 

Oh,  let  me  pause  !     I  scarce  can  comprehend 
How  after  such  an  hour  I  still  can  live. 

ALPHONSO. 

Live  in  enjoyment  of  the  high  reward 

From  which  thy  inexperience  shrinks  with  fear. 

PRINCESS  (raising  the  crown). 

Thou  dost  afford  me,  Tasso,  the  rare  joy 
Of  giving  silent  utterance  to  my  thought. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  117 


TASSO. 


The  beauteous  burden  from  thy  honoured  hands, 
On  my  weak  head,  thus  kneehng  I  receive. 

{He  kneels  down :  the  Pkincess  places  the  crown 
upon  his  head.) 


LEONORA  (applauding). 

Long  hve  the  poet,  for  the  first  time  crowned  ! 
How  well  the  crown  adorns  the  modest  man ! 

(Tasso  rises) 

ALPHONSO. 

It  is  an  emblem  only  of  that  crown 
Which  shall  adorn  thee  on  the  Capitol. 

PRINCESS. 

There  louder  voices  will  salute  thine  ear : 
Friendship  with  lower  tones  rewards  thee  here. 

TASSO. 

Take  it,  oh,  take  it  quickly,  from  my  brow ! 
Pray  thee  remove  it !     It  doth  scorch  my  locks : 
And  like  a  sunbeam,  that  with  fervid  heat 
Falls  on  my  forehead,  burnetii  in  my  brain 
The  power  of  thought ;  while  fever's  fiery  glow 
Impels  my  blood.     Forgive  !  it  is  too  much. 

LEONORA. 

This  garland  rather  doth  protect  the  head 

Of  him  who  treads  the  burning  realm  of  fame, 

And  with  its  grateful  shelter  cools  his  brow. 


Ii8  TORQUATO  TASSO 

TASSO. 

I  am  not  worthy  to  receive  its  shade, 

Which  only  round  the  hero's  brow  should  wave. 

Ye  gods,  exalt  it  high  among  the  clouds, 

To  float  in  glory  inaccessible, 

That  through  eternity  my  life  may  be 

An  endless  striving  to  attain  this  goal ! 


ALPHOXSO. 

He  who  in  youth  acquires  life's  noblest  gifts, 
Learns  early  to  esteem  their  priceless  worth ; 
He  who  in  youth  enjoys,  resigneth  not 
Without  reluctance  what  he  once  possessed  ; 
And  he  who  would  possess,  must  still  be  armed. 


TASSO. 

And  who  would  arm  himself,  within  his  breast 

A  power  must  feel  that  ne'er  forsaketh  him. 

Ah,  it  forsakes  me  now  !     In  happiness 

The  inborn  power  subsides,  which  tutored  me 

To  meet  injustice  with  becoming  pride. 

And  steadfastly  to  face  adversity. 

Hath  the  delight,  the  rapture,  of  this  hour, 

Dissolved  the  strength  and  marrow  in  my  limbs  ? 

My  knees  sink  feebly  !  yet  a  second  time 

Thou  seest  me,  princess,  here  before  thee  bowed : 

Grant  my  petition,  and  remove  the  crown. 

That,  as  awakened  from  a  blissful  dream, 

A  new  and  fresh  existence  I  may  feel. 


PRINCESS. 

If  thou  with  quiet  modesty  canst  wear 
The  glorious  talent  from  the  gods  received, 


TORQUATO  TASSO  II9 


Learn  also  now  the  laurel  wreath  to  wear, 
The  fairest  gift  that  friendship  can  bestow. 
The  brow  it  once  hath  worthily  adorned, 
It  shall  encircle  through  eternity. 


TASSO. 

Oh,  let  me,  then,  ashamed  from  hence  retire  ! 

Let  me  in  deepest  shades  my  joy  conceal. 

As  there  my  sorrow  I  was  w^ont  to  shroud. 

There  will  I  range  alone :  no  eye  will  there 

Eemind  me  of  a  bliss  so  undeserved. 

And  if  perchance  I  should  behold  a  youth 

In  the  clear  mirror  of  a  crystal  spring. 

Who  in  the  imaged  heaven,  'midst  rocks  and  trees, 

Absorbed  in  thought  appears,  his  brow  adorned 

With  glory's  garland,  —  there,  methinks,  I  see 

Elysium  mirrored  in  the  magic  flood. 

I  pause  and  calmly  ask.  Who  may  this  be  ? 

What  youth  of  bygone  times  so  fairly  crowned  ? 

Whence  can  I  learn  his  name  ?  his  high  desert  ? 

I  linger  long,  and  musing  fondly  think  : 

Oh,  might  there  come  another,  and  yet  more, 

To  join  with  him  in  friendly  intercourse  ! 

Oh,  could  I  see  assembled  round  this  spring 

The  bards,  the  heroes,  of  the  olden  time ! 

Could  I  behold  them  still  united  here 

As  they  in  life  were  ever  firmly  bound ! 

As  with  mysterious  power  the  magnet  binds 

Iron  with  iron,  so  do  kindred  aims 

Unite  the  souls  of  heroes  and  of  bards. 

Himself  forgetting,  Homer  spent  his  life 

In  contemplation  of  two  mighty  men ; 

And  Alexander  in  the  Elysium  fields 

Doth  Homer  and  Achilles  haste  to  seek. 

Oh,  would  that  I  were  present  to  behold 

Those  mighty  spirits  in  communion  met, 


I20  TORQUATO  TASSO 

LEONOKA. 

Awake !  awake !  let  us  not  feel  that  thou 
The  present  quite  forgettest  in  the  past. 

TASSO. 

It  is  the  present  that  inspireth  me : 
Absent  I  seem  alone,  I  am  entranced ! 

PEINCESS. 

When  thou  dost  speak  with  spirits,  I  rejoice 
The  voice  is  human,  and  I  gladly  hear. 

(A  page  steps  to  the  Prince.) 

ALPHONSO. 

He  is  arrived  !  and  in  a  happy  hour : 

Antonio !     Bring  him  hither,  —  here  he  comes ! 


Scene   IV.  —  Princess,  Leonora,  Alphonso,  Tasso, 

Antonio. 

alphonso. 

Thou'rt  doubly  welcome !  thou  who  bringest  at  once 
Thyself  and  welcome  tidings. 

princess. 

Welcome  here ! 

ANTONIO. 

Scarce  dare  I  venture  to  express  the  joy 
Which  in  your  presence  quickens  me  anew. 
In  your  society  I  find  restored 
What  I  have  missed  so  long.     You  seem  content 
With  what  I  have  accompHshed,  what  achieved ; 


TORQUATO  TASSO  121 

So  am  I  recompensed  for  every  care, 

For  many  days  impatiently  endured, 

And  many  others  wasted  purposely. 

At  length  our  wish  is  gained,  —  the  strife  is  o'er. 

LEONORA. 

I  also  gi'eet  thee,  though  in  sooth  displeased  : 
Thou  dost  arrive  when  I  must  hence  depart. 

ANTONIO. 

As  if  to  mar  my  perfect  happiness, 

One  lovely  part  forthwith  thou  takest  hence. 

TASSO. 

My  greetings  too  !     I  also  shall  rejoice 

In  converse  with  the  much-experienced  man. 

ANTONIO. 

Thou'lt  find  me  true,  whenever  thou  wilt  deign 
To  glance  awhile  from  thy  world  into  mine. 

ALPHONSO. 

Though  thou  by  letter  hast  announced  to  me 

The  progress  and  the  issue  of  our  cause, 

Full  many  questions  I  have  yet  to  ask 

Touching  the  course  thou  hast  pursued  therein. 

In  that  strange  region  a  well-measured  step 

Alone  conducts  us  to  our  destined  goal. 

Who  doth  his  sovereign's  interest  purely  seek. 

In  Rome  a  hard  position  must  maintain ; 

For  Rome  gives  nothing,  while  she  grasps  at  all : 

Let  him  who  thither  goes  some  boon  to  claim. 

Go  well  provided,  and  esteem  himself 

Most  happy,  if  e'en  then  he  gaineth  aught. 


122  TORQUATO  TASSO 


ANTONIO. 


'Tis  neither  my  demeanour  nor  my  art 
By  which  thy  will  hath  been  accomplished,  prince. 
For  where  the  skill  which  at  the  Vatican 
Would  not  be  overmastered  ?     Much  conspired 
Which  I  could  use  in  furtherance  of  our  cause. 
Pope  Gregory  salutes  and  blesses  thee. 
That  aged  man,  that  sovereign  most  august, 
Who  on  his  brow  the  load  of  empire  bears, 
Eecalls  the  time  when  he  embraced  thee  last 
With  pleasure.     He  who  can  distinguish  men 
Knows  and  extols  thee  highly.     For  thy  sake 
He  hath  done  much. 


ALPHONSO. 

So  far  as  'tis  sincere, 
His  good  opinion  cannot  but  rejoice  me. 
But  well  thou  knowest,  from  the  Vatican 
The  Pope  sees  empires  dwindled  at  his  feet ; 
Princes  and  men  must  needs  seem  small  indeed. 
Confess  what  was  it  most  assisted  thee. 


ANTONIO. 

Good  !  if  thou  vvdll'st :  the  Pope's  exalted  mind. 

To  him  the  small  seems  small,  the  great  seems  great. 

That  he  may  wield  the  empire  of  the  world. 

He  to  his  neighbour  yields  with  kind  good  will. 

The  strip  of  land,  which  he  resigns  to  thee. 

He  knoweth,  like  thy  friendship,  well  to  prize. 

Itaha  must  be  tranquil,  friends  alone 

Will  he  behold  around  him,  peace  must  reign 

Upon  his  borders,  that  of  Christendom 

The  might,  which  he  so  potently  directs. 

May  smite  at  once  the  Heretic  and  Turk. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  123 

PRINCESS. 

And  is  it  known  what  men  he  most  esteems, 
And  who  approach  him  confidentially  ? 

ANTONIO. 

The  experienced  man  alone  can  win  his  ear, 

The  active  man  his  favour  and  esteem. 

He,  who  from  early  youth  has  served  the  state, 

Commands  it  now,  ruling  those  very  courts 

Which,  in  his  office  of  ambassador. 

He  had  observed  and  guided  years  before. 

The  world  lies  spread  before  his  searching  gaze, 

Clear  as  the  interests  of  his  own  domain. 

In  action  we  must  yield  him  our  applause. 

And  mark  with  joy,  when  time  unfolds  the  plans 

Which  his  deep  forethought  fashioned  long  before. 

There  is  no  fairer  prospect  in  the  world 

Than  to  behold  a  prince  who  wisely  rules ; 

A  realm  where  every  one  obeys  with  pride, 

Where  each  imagines  that  he  serves  himself, 

Because  'tis  justice  only  that  commands. 

LEONOKA. 

How  ardently  I  long  to  view  that  realm ! 

ALPHONSO. 

Doubtless  that  thou  mayst  play  thy  part  therein, 
For  Leonora  never  could  remain 
A  mere  spectator :  meet  it  were,  fair  friend, 
If  now  and  then  we  let  your  gentle  hands 
Join  in  the  mighty  game  —  say,  is't  not  so  ? 

LEONORA  {to  ALPHONSO). 

Thou  wouldst  provoke  me,  —  thou  shalt  not  succeed. 


124  TORQUATO  TASSO 

ALPHONSO. 
I  am  already  deeply  in  thy  debt. 

LEONORA. 

Good  :  then  to-day  I  will  remain  in  thine  ! 
Forgive,  and  do  not  interrupt  me  now. 

{To  Antonio.) 
Say,  hath  he  for  his  relatives  done  much  ? 

ANTONIO, 

Nor  more  nor  less  than  equity  allows. 
The  potentate  who  doth  neglect  his  friends 
Is  even  by  the  people  justly  blamed. 
With  wise  discretion  Gregory  employs 
His  friends  as  trusty  servants  of  the  state. 
And  thus  fulfils  at  once  two  kindred  claims. 

TASSO. 

Doth  science,  do  the  hberal  arts,  enjoy 
His  fostering  care  ?  and  doth  he  emulate 
The  glorious  princes  of  the  olden  time  ? 

ANTONIO. 

He  honours  science  when  it  is  of  use,  — 
Teaching  to  govern  states,  to  know  mankind : 
He  prizes  art  when  it  embellishes,  — 
When  it  exalts  and  beautifies  his  Eonie, 
Erecting  palaces  and  temples  there, 
Which  rank  among  the  marvels  of  this  earth. 
Within  his  sphere  of  influence  he  admits 
Nought  inefficient,  and  alone  esteems 
The  active  cause  and  instrument  of  good. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  125 


ALPHONSO. 


Thou  thinkest,  then,  that  we  may  soon  conclude 
The  wliole  atlair  ?  that  no  impediments 
Will  finally  be  scattered  in  our  way  ? 


ANTONIO. 


Unless  I  greatly  err,  'twill  but  require 
A  few  brief  letters  and  thy  signature. 
To  bring  this  contest  to  a  final  close. 


ALPHONSO. 

This  day  with  justice,  then,  I  may  proclaim 

A  season  of  prosperity  and  joy. 

My  frontiers  are  enlarged  and  made  secure : 

Thou  hast  accomplished  all  without  the  sword, 

And  hence  deservest  well  a  civic  crown. 

Our  ladies  on  some  beauteous  morn  shall  twine 

A  wreath  of  oak  to  bind  around  thy  brow. 

Meanwhile  our  poet  hath  enriched  us  too  : 

He,  by  his  conquest  of  Jerusalem, 

Hath  put  our  modern  Christendom  to  shame. 

With  joyous  spirit  and  unwearied  zeal, 

A  high  and  distant  goal  he  had  attained  ; 

For  his  achievement  thou  beholdest  him  crowned. 


ANTONIO. 

Thou  solvest  an  enigma.     Two  crowned  heads 
I  saw  with  wonder  on  arriving  here. 

TASSO. 

While  thou  dost  gaze  upon  my  happiness. 

With  the  same  glance,  oh,  couldst  thou  view  my  heart, 

And  witness  there  my  deep  humility ! 


126  TORQUATO  TASSO 


ANTONIO. 


How  lavishly  Alphonso  can  reward 

I  long  have  known :  thou  only  provest  now 

What  all  enjoy  who  come  within  its  sphere. 


PRINCESS, 


When  thou  shalt  see  the  work  he  hath  achieved, 

Thou  wilt  esteem  us  moderate  and  just. 

The  first,  the  silent,  witnesses  are  we 

Of  praises  which  the  world  and  future  years 

In  tenfold  measure  will  accord  to  him. 

ANTONIO. 

Through  you  his  fame  is  certain.     Who  so  bold 
To  entertain  a  doubt  when  you  commend  ? 
But  tell  me,  who  on  Ariosto's  brow 
Hath  placed  this  wreath  ? 

LEONOEA. 

This  hand. 

ANTONIO. 

It  hath  done  well. 
It  more  becomes  him  than  a  laurel  crown. 
As  o'er  her  fruitful  bosom  Nature  throws 
Her  variegated  robe  of  beauteous  green, 
So  he  enshrouds  in  Fable's  flowery  garb 
Whatever  can  conspire  to  render  man 
Worthy  of  love  and  honour.     Power  and  taste, 
Experience,  understanding,  and  content. 
And  a  pure  feeling  for  the  good  and  true, 
Pervade  the  spirit  of  his  every  song, 
And  there  appear  in  person,  to  repose 
'Neath  blossoming  trees,  besprinkled  by  the  snow 
Of  lightly  falling  flowers,  their  heads  entwined 


TORQUATO  TASSO  127 

With  rosy  garlands  ;  while  the  sportive  Loves 

With  frolic  humour  weave  their  magic  spells. 

A  copious  fountain,  gurgling  near,  displays 

Strange  variegated  fish ;  and  all  the  air 

Is  vocal  with  the  song  of  wondrous  birds ; 

Strange  cattle  pasture  in  the  bowers  and  glades ; 

Half  hid  in  verdure,  Folly  slyly  lurks ; 

At  times,  resounding  from  a  golden  cloud. 

The  voice  of  Wisdom  utters  lofty  truth  ; 

While  Madness,  from  a  wild,  harmonious  lute, 

Scatters  forth  bursts  of  fitful  harmony, 

Yet  all  the  while  the  justest  measure  holds. 

He  who  aspires  to  emulate  this  man. 

E'en  for  his  boldness  well  deserves  a  crown. 

Forgive  me  if  I  feel  myself  inspired. 

Like  one  entranced  forget  both  time  and  place, 

And  fail  to  weigh  my  words ;  for  all  these  crowns, 

These  poets,  and  the  festival  attire 

Of  these  fair  ladies,  have  transported  me 

Out  of  myself  into  a  foreign  land. 

PKINCESS. 

Who  thus  can  prize  one  species  of  desert. 
Will  not  misjudge  another.     Thou  to  us, 
Some  future  day,  shalt  show  in  Tasso's  song 
What  we  can  feel,  and  thou  canst  comprehend. 

ALPHONSO. 

Come,  now,  Antonio !  many  things  remain 
Whereof  I  am  desirous  to  inquire. 
Then,  t^'.ll  the  setting  of  the  sun,  thou  shalt 
Attend  the  ladies.     Follow  me,  —  farewell ! 

(Antonio  follows  the  prince.  Tasso  the  ladies.) 


128  TORQUATO  TASSO 

ACT   II. 

Scene  I.  —  A  Boom.     Pkincess,  Tasso. 

TASSO. 

I  WITH  uncertain  footsteps  follow  thee, 
O  princess :  there  arise  within  my  soul 
Thoughts  without  rule  and  measure.     SoHtude 
Appears  to  beckon  me  :  complaisantly 
She  whispers,  "  Hither  come,  I  will  allay, 
Within  thy  breast,  the  newly  wakened  doubt." 
Yet  catch  I  but  a  glimpse  of  thee,  or  takes 
My  listening  ear  one  utterance  from  thy  lip. 
At  once  a  new-born  day  around  me  shines, 
And  all  the  fetters  vanish  from  my  soul. 
To  thee  I  freely  will  confess,  the  man 
Who  unexpectedly  appeared  among  us 
Hath  rudely  waked  me  from  a  beauteous  dream 
So  strangely  have  his  nature  and  his  words 
Affected  me,  that  more  than  ever  now 
A  want  of  inward  harmony  I  feel, 
And  a  distracting  conflict  with  myself. 

PEINCESS. 

Tis  not  to  be  expected  that  a  friend. 
Who  long  hath  sojourned  in  a  foreign  land, 
Should,  in  the  moment  of  his  first  return, 
The  tone  of  former  times  at  once  resume : 
He  in  his  inner  mind  is  still  unchanged ; 
And  a  few  days  of  intercourse  will  tune 
The  jarring  strings,  until  they  blend  once  more 
In  perfect  harmony.     When  he  shall  know 
The  greatness  of  the  work  thou  hast  achieved. 
Believe  me,  he  will  place  thee  by  the  bard, 
Whom  as  a  giant  now  he  sets  before  thee. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  129 

TASSO. 

My  princess,  Ariosto's  praise  from  him 

Has  more  delighted  than  offended  me. 

ConsoUng  'tis,  to  know  the  man  renowned, 

Wliom  as  our  model  we  have  placed  before  us : 

An  inward  voice  then  whispers  to  the  heart, 

"  Canst  thou  obtain  a  portion  of  his  worth, 

A  portion  of  his  fame  is  also  thine." 

No :  that  which  hath  most  deeply  moved  my  heart, 

Which  even  now  completely  fills  my  soul, 

Was  the  majestic  picture  of  that  world. 

Which,  with  its  hving,  restless,  mighty  forms. 

Around  one  great  and  prudent  man  revolves, 

And  runs  with  measured  steps  the  destined  course 

Prescribed  beforehand  by  the  demigod. 

I  listened  eagerly,  and  heard  with  joy 

The  wise  discourse  of  the  experienced  man ; 

But,  ah !  the  more  I  heard,  the  more  I  felt 

Mine  own  unworthiness,  and  feared  that  I, 

Like  empty  sound,  might  dissipate  in  air, 

Or  vanish  hke  an  echo  or  a  dream. 


PEINCESS. 

And  yet  erewhile  thou  didst  so  truly  feel 

How  bard  and  hero  for  each  other  live, 

How  bard  and  hero  to  each  other  tend. 

And  toward  each  other  know  no  envious  thought. 

Noble  in  truth  are  deeds  deserving  fame ; 

But  it  is  also  noble  to  transmit 

The  lofty  grandeur  of  heroic  deeds, 

Through  worthy  song,  to  our  posterity. 

Be  satisfied  to  contemplate  iu  peace, 

From  a  small,  sheltering  state,  as  from  the  shore, 

The  wild  and  stormy  current  of  the  world. 


I30  TORQUATO  TASSO 


TASSO. 


Was  it  not  here,  amazed,  I  first  beheld 

The  high  reward  on  valiant  deeds  bestowed  ? 

An  inexperienced  youth  I  here  arrived, 

When  festival  on  festival  conspired 

To  render  this  the  centre  of  renown. 

Oh,  what  a  scene  Ferrara  then  displayed ! 

The  wide  arena,  where  in  all  its  pomp 

AccompHshed  valour  should  its  skill  display, 

Was  bounded  by  a  circle,  whose  liigh  worth 

The  sun  might  seek  to  parallel  in  vain. 

The  fairest  women  sat  assembled  there, 

And  men  the  most  distinguished  of  the  age. 

Amazed  the  eye  ran  o'er  the  noble  throng : 

Proudly  I  cried,  "  And  'tis  our  fatherland, 

That  small,  sea-girded  land,  hath  sent  them  here. 

They  constitute  the  noblest  court  that  e'er 

On  honour,  worth,  or  virtue,  judgment  passed. 

Survey  them  singly,  thou  wilt  not  find  one 

Of  whom  his  neighbour  needs  to  feel  ashamed  ! "  — 

And  then  the  hsts  were  opened,  chargers  pranced, 

Esquires  pressed  forward,  helmets  brightly  gleamed, 

The  trumpet  sounded,  shivering  lances  split. 

The  din  of  clanging  helm  and  shield  was  heard. 

And  for  a  moment  eddying  dust  concealed 

The  victor's  honour  and  the  vanquished's  shame. 

Oh,  let  me  draw  a  curtain  o'er  the  scene. 

The  all  too  brilliant  spectacle  conceal. 

That  in  this  tranquil  hour  I  may  not  feel 

Too  painfully  mine  own  uuworthiuess ! 

PRINCESS. 

If  that  bright  circle  and  those  noble  deeds 
Aroused  thee  then  to  enterprise  and  toil, 
I  could  the  while,  young  friend,  have  tutored  thee 
In  the  still  lesson  of  calm  sufferance. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  131 

The  brilliant  festival  thou  dost  extol, 
Which  then  and  since  a  luuidred  voices  praised 
I  did  not  witness.     In  a  lonely  spot, 
So  tranquil,  that,  unbroken  on  the  ear, 
Joy's  lightest  echo  faintly  died  away, 
A  prey  to  pain  and  melancholy  thoughts, 
I  was  compelled  to  pass  the  tedious  hours. 
Before  me  hovered,  on  extended  wing, 
Death's  awful  form,  concealing  from  my  view 
The  prospect  of  this  ever-changing  world. 
Slowly  it  disappeared  :  and  I  beheld, 
As  through  a  veil,  the  varied  hues  of  life. 
Pleasing  but  indistinct ;  while  living  forms 
Began  once  more  to  flicker  through  the  gloom. 
Still  feeble,  and  supported  by  my  women. 
For  the  first  time  my  silent  room  I  left, 
When  hither,  full  of  happiness  and  life, 
Thee  leading  by  the  hand,  Lucretia  came. 
A  stranger  then,  thou,  Tasso,  wast  the  first 
To  welcome  me  on  my  return  to  life. 
Much  then  I  hoped  for  both  of  us ;  and  hope 
Hath  not,  methinks,  deceived  us  hitherto. 


TASSO. 

Stunned  by  the  tumult,  dazzled  by  the  glare, 
Impetuous  passions  stirring  in  my  breast, 
I  by  thy  sister's  side  pursued  my  way 
In  silence  through  the  stately  corridors, 
Then  in  the  chamber  entered,  where  ere  long 
Thou  didst  appear  supported  by  thy  women. 
Oh,  what  a  moment !     Princess,  pardon  me ! 
As  in  the  presence  of  a  deity 
The  victim  of  enchantment  feels  with  joy 
His  frenzied  spirit  from  delusion  freed  ; 
So  was  my  soul  from  every  fantasy. 
From  every  passion,  every  false  desire 


132  TORQUATO  TASSO 

E«stored  at  once  by  one  calm  glance  of  thine, 

And  if,  before,  my  inexperienced  mind 

Had  lost  itself  in  infinite  desires, 

I  then,  with  shame,  first  turned  my  gaze  within, 

And  recognised  the  truly  valuable. 

Thus  on  the  wide  seashore  we  seek  in  vain 

The  pearl,  reposing  in  its  silent  shell. 

PRINCESS. 

'Twas  the  commencement  of  a  happy  time. 

And  had  Urbino's  duke  not  led  away 

My  sister  from  us,  many  years  had  passed 

For  us  in  calm,  unclouded  happiness. 

But  now,  alas !  we  miss  her  all  too  much. 

Miss  her  free  spirit,  buoyancy,  and  life, 

And  the  rich  wit  of  the  accomplished  woman. 

TASSO. 

Too  well  I  know,  since  she  departed  hence. 

None  hath  been  able  to  supply  to  thee 

The  pure  enjoyment  which  her  presence  gave. 

Alas,  how  often  hath  it  grieved  my  soul ! 

How  often  have  I,  in  the  silent  grove, 

Poured  forth  my  lamentation  !     How  !  I  cried, 

Is  it  her  sister's  right  and  joy  alone 

To  be  a  treasure  to  the  dear  one's  heart  ? 

Does,  then,  no  other  soul  respond  to  hers, 

No  other  heart  her  confidence  deserve  ? 

Are  soul  and  wit  extinguished  ?  and  should  one, 

How  great  soe'er  her  worth,  engross  her  love  ? 

Forgive  me,  princess !     Often  I  have  wished 

I  could  be  something  to  thee,  —  little,  perhaps, 

But  something :  not  with  words  alone,  with  deeds 

I  wished  to  be  so,  and  in  life  to  prove 

How  I  had  worshipped  thee  in  solitude. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  133 

But  I  could  ne'er  succeed,  and  but  too  oft 

In  error  wounded  thee,  offending  one 

By  thee  protected,  or  perplexing  more 

What  thou  didst  wish  to  solve,  and  thus,  alas ! 

E'en  in  the  moment  when  I  fondly  strove 

To  draw  more  near  thee,  felt  more  distant  still. 

PKINCESS. 

Thy  wish  I  never  have  misconstrued,  Tasso, 
How  thou  dost  prejudice  thyself  I  know : 
Unlike  my  sister,  who  possessed  the  art 
Of  living  happily  with  every  one, 
After  so  many  years,  thou  art  in  sooth 
Thyself  well-nigh  unfriended. 

TASSO. 

Censure  me ! 
But  after  say,  where  shall  I  find  the  man, 
The  woman  where,  to  whom  as  unto  thee 
I  freely  can  unbosom  every  thought  ? 

PEINCESS. 

Thou  shouldest  in  my  brother  more  confide. 

TASSO. 

He  is  my  prince !  —  Yet  do  not  hence  suppose 

That  freedom's  lawless  impulse  swells  my  breast. 

Man  is  not  born  for  freedom ;  and  to  serve 

A  prince  deserving  honour  and  esteem 

Is  a  pure  pleasure  to  a  noble  mind. 

He  is  my  sovereign,  —  of  that  great  word 

I  deeply  feel  the  full  significance. 

I  must  be  silent  when  he  speaks,  and  learn 

To  do  what  he  commandeth,  though  perchance 

My  heart  and  understanding  both  rebel. 


134  TORQUATO  TASSO 


PRINCESS. 

That  with  my  brother  never  can  befall. 
And  in  Antonio,  who  is  now  returned, 
Thou  wilt  possess  another  prudent  friend. 

TASSO. 

I  hoped  it  once,  now  almost  I  despair. 

His  converse  how  instructive,  and  his  words 

How  useful  in  a  thousand  instances  ! 

For  he  possesses,  I  may  truly  say. 

All  that  in  me  is  wanting.     But,  alas  ! 

When  round  his  cradle  all  the  gods  assembled 

To  bring  their  gifts,  the  Graces  were  not  there  ; 

And  he  who  lacks  what  these  fair  Powers  impart, 

May  much  possess,  may  much  communicate  • 

But  on  his  bosom  we  can  ne'er  repose. 

PRINCESS. 

But  we  can  trust  in  him,  and  that  is  much. 

Thou  shouldst  not,  Tasso,  in  one  man  expect 

All  quahties  combined :  Antonio 

What  he  hath  promised  surely  will  perform. 

If  he  have  once  declared  himself  thy  friend. 

He'll  care  for  thee,  where  thou  dost  fail  thyself. 

Ye  must  be  friends !     I  cherish  the  fond  hope 

Ere  long  this  gracious  work  to  consummate. 

Only  oppose  me  not,  as  is  thy  wont. 

Then,  Leonora  long  hath  sojourned  here. 

Who  is  at  once  refined  and  elegant : 

Her  easy  manners  banish  all  restraint. 

Yet  thou  hast  ne'er  approached  her  as  she  wished. 

TASSO. 

To  thee  I  hearkened,  or,  believe  me,  princess, 

I  should  have  rather  shunned  her  than  approached. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  135 

Though  she  appear  so  kind,  I  know  not  why, 
I  can  but  rarely  feel  at  ease  with  her  : 
E'en  when  her  purpose  is  to  aid  her  friends, 
They  feel  the  purpose,  and  are  thence  constrained. 


PEINCESS. 

Upon  this  pathway,  Tasso,  nevermore 

Will  glad  companionship  be  ours !     This  track 

Leadeth  us  on  through  solitary  groves 

And  silent  vales  to  wander ;  more  and  more 

The  spirit  is  untuned ;  and  fondly  strives 

The  golden  age,  that  from  the  outer  world 

For  aye  hath  vanished,  to  restore  within, 

How  vain  soever  the  attempt  may  prove. 


TASSO. 

Oh,  what  a  word,  my  princess,  hast  thou  spoken ! 
The  golden  age,  ah  !  whither  is  it  flown. 
For  which  in  secret  every  heart  repines  ? 
When  o'er  the  yet  unsubjugated  earth. 
Men  roamed,  like  herds,  in  joyous  liberty ; 
When  on  the  flowery  lawn  an  ancient  tree 
Lent  to  the  shepherd  and  the  shepherdess 
Its  grateful  shadow,  and  the  leafy  grove 
Its  tender  branches  lovingly  entwined 
Around  confiding  love ;  when  still  and  clear. 
O'er  sands  for  ever  pure,  the  pearly  stream 
The  nymph's  fair  form  encircled ;  when  the  snake 
Glided  innoxious  through  the  verdant  grass, 
And  the  bold  youth  pursued  the  daring  faun ; 
When  every  bird  winging  the  limpid  air, 
And  every  living  thing  o'er  hill  and  dale, 
Proclaimed  to  man,  —  What  pleases  is  allowed. 


136  TORQUATO  TASSO 

PKINCESS. 

My  friend,  the  golden  age  hath  passed  away ; 
Only  the  good  have  power  to  bring  it  back : 
Shall  I  confess  to  thee  my  secret  thought  ? 
The  golden  age,  wherewith  the  bard  is  wont 
Our  spirits  to  beguile,  that  lovely  prime, 
Existed  in  the  past  no  more  than  now ; 
And,  did  it  e'er  exist,  beheve  me,  Tasso, 
As  then  it  was,  it  now  may  be  restored. 
Still  meet  congenial  spirits,  and  enhance 
Each  other's  pleasures  in  this  beauteous  world ; 
But  in  the  motto  change  one  single  word. 
And  say,  my  friend,  —  What's  fitting  is  allowed. 


TAS&O. 

Would  that  of  good  and  noble  men  were  formed 

A  great  tribunal,  to  decide  for  all 

What  is  befitting !  then  no  more  would  each 

Esteem  that  right  which  benefits  himself. 

The  man  of  power  acts  ever  as  he  lists. 

And  whatsoe'er  he  doth  is  fitting  deemed. 


PRINCESS. 

Wouldst  thou  define  exactly  what  is  fitting. 
Thou  shouldst  apply,  methinks,  to  noble  women ; 
For  them  it  most  behooveth  that  in  life 
Nought  should  be  done  unseemly  or  unfit : 
Propriety  encircles  with  a  wall 
The  tender,  weak,  and  vulnerable  sex. 
Where  moral  order  reigneth,  women  reign  ; 
They  only  are  despised  where  rudeness  triumphs, 
And  wouldst  thou  touching  either  sex  inquire, 
'Tis  order  woman  seeketh ;  freedom,  man. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  137 

TASSO. 

Thou  thinkest  us  unfeeling,  wild,  and  rude  ? 

TRINCESS. 

Not  so !  but  ye  witli  violence  pursue 

A  multitude  of  objects  far  remote. 

Ye  venture  for  eternity  to  act ; 

While  we,  with  views  more  narrow,  on  this  earth 

Seek  only  one  possession,  well  content 

If  that  with  constancy  remain  our  own. 

For  we,  alas !  are  of  no  heart  secure, 

Whate'er  the  ardour  of  its  first  devotion. 

Beauty  is  transient,  which  alone  ye  seem 

To  hold  in  honour  ;  what  beside  remains 

No  longer  charms,  —  what  doth  not  charm  is  dead. 

If  among  men  there  were  who  knew  to  prize 

The  heart  of  woman,  who  could  recognise 

What  treasure  of  fidelity  and  love 

Are  garnered  safely  in  a  woman's  breast ; 

If  the  remembrance  of  bright  single  hours 

Could  vividly  abide  within  your  souls ; 

If  your  so  searching  glance  could  pierce  the  veil 

Which  age  and  wasting  sickness  o'er  us  fling ; 

If  the  possession  which  should  satisfy 

Wakened  no  restless  cravings  in  your  hearts,  — 

Then  were  our  happy  days  indeed  arrived. 

We  then  should  celebrate  our  golden  age. 

TASSO. 

Thy  words,  my  princess,  in  my  breast  awake 
An  old  anxiety  half  lulled  to  sleep. 

PRINCESS. 

What  meanest  thou,  Tasso  ?     Freely  speak  with  me. 


138  TORQUATO  TASSO 

TASSO. 

I  oft  before  have  heard,  and  recently 

Again  it  hath  been  rumoured,  —  had  I  not 

Been  told,  I  might  have  known  it,  —  princes  strive 

To  win  thy  hand.     What  we  must  needs  expect 

We  view  with  dread,  —  nay,  almost  with  despair. 

Thou  wilt  forsake  us,  —  it  is  natural ; 

Yet  how  we  shall  endure  it,  know  I  not. 

PKINCESS. 

Be  for  the  present  moment  unconcerned,  — 
Almost,  I  might  say,  unconcerned  for  ever. 
I  am  contented  still  to  tarry  here. 
Nor  know  I  any  tie  to  lure  me  hence. 
And  if  thou  wouldst  indeed  detain  me,  Tasso, 
Live  peaceably  with  all ;  so  shalt  thou  lead 
A  happy  hfe  thyself,  and  I  through  thee. 

TASSO. 

Teach  me  to  do  whate'er  is  possible ! 

My  life  itself  is  consecrate  to  thee. 

When  to  extol  thee  and  to  give  thee  thanks 

My  heart  unfolded,  I  experienced  first 

The  purest  happiness  that  man  can  feel ; 

My  soul's  ideal  I  first  found  in  thee. 

As  destiny  supreme  is  raised  above 

The  will  and  counsel  of  the  wisest  men. 

So  tower  the  gods  of  earth  o'er  common  mortals. 

The  rolhng  surge  which  we  behold  with  dread, 

Doth  all  unheeded  murmur  at  their  feet 

Like  gentle  billows :  they  hear  not  the  storm 

Which  blusters  round  us,  scarcely  heed  our  prayers, 

And  treat  us  as  we  helpless  children  treat. 

Letting  us  fill  the  air  with  sighs  and  plaints. 

Thou  hast,  divine  one  !  often  borne  with  me, 


TORQUATO  TASSO  139 

And,  like  the  radiant  sun,  thy  pitying  glance 
Hath  from  mine  eyelid  dried  the  dew  of  sorrow. 


PRINCESS. 

'Tis  only  just  that  women  cordially 
Should  meet  the  poet,  whose  heroic  song 
In  strains  so  varied  glorifies  the  sex. 
Tender  or  valiant,  thou  hast  ever  known 
To  represent  them  amiable  and  noble ; 
And,  if  Armida  is  deserving  hate. 
Her  love  and  beauty  reconcile  us  to  her. 


TASSO. 

Whatever  in  my  song  doth  reach  the  heart 
And  find  an  echo  there,  I  owe  to  one. 
And  one  alone !     No  image  undefined 
Hovered  before  my  soul,  approaching  now 
In  radiant  glory,  to  retire  again. 
I  have  myself,  with  mine  own  eyes,  beheld 
The  type  of  every  virtue,  every  grace ; 
What  I  have  copied  thence  will  aye  endure 
The  heroic  love  of  Tancred  to  Clorinda, 
Erminia's  silent  and  unnoticed  truth, 
Sophronia's  greatness  and  Olinda's  woe ; 
These  are  not  shadows  by  illusion  bred ; 
I  know  they  are  eternal,  for  they  are. 
And  what  is  more  deserving  to  survive, 
And  silently  to  work  for  centuries, 
Than  the  confession  of  a  noble  love 
Confided  modestly  to  gentle  song  ? 


PRINCESS. 

And  shall  I  name  to  thee  another  charm 
Which,  all  unconsciously,  this  song  may  claim  ? 


I40  TORQUATO  TASSO 

It  doth  allure  us  still  to  listen  to  it : 
We  listen,  and  we  think  we  understand  ; 
We  understand,  and  yet  we  censure  not ; 
So,  with  thy  song,  thou  winnest  us  at  last. 

TASSO. 

Oh,  what  a  heaven  thou  dost  open  to  me, 
My  princess  !  if  this  radiance  blinds  me  not, 
I  see  unhoped-for  and  eternal  bliss 
Descending  gloriously  on  golden  beams. 

PRINCESS. 

No  further,  Tasso  !  many  things  there  are 
That  we  may  hope  to  win  with  violence  ; 
While  others  only  can  become  our  own 
Through  moderation  and  wise  self-restraint. 
Such,  it  is  said,  is  virtue,  such  is  love. 
Which  is  allied  to  her.     Think  well  of  this ! 


Scene  II. 

TASSO. 

And  art  thou,  then,  allowed  to  raise  thine  eyes  ? 
Around  thee  darest  thou  gaze  ?     Thou  art  alone ! 
O'erheard  these  pillars  what  the  princess  spake  ? 
And  hast  thou  witnesses,  dumb  witnesses 
Of  thine  exalted  happiness  to  fear  ? 
The  sun  arises  of  a  new  life-day, 
Whose  splendour  dims  the  light  of  former  days. 
The  goddess,  downward  stooping,  swiftly  bears 
Aloft  the  mortal.     What  a  wide  expanse 
Is  to  mine  eye  discovered,  what  a  realm  ! 
How  richly  recompensed  my  burning  wish ! 
In  dreams  the  highest  happiness  seemed  near : 
This  happiness  surpasses  all  my  dreams. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  141 

The  man  born  blind  couceiveth  as  he  may 

Of  Hght  and  colour :   when  upon  his  eye 

The  daylight  pours,  he  hails  a  new-born  sense. 

Full  of  vague  hope  and  courage,  drunk  with  joy, 

Reeling  I  tread  this  path.      Thou  givest  me  much : 

Thou  givest  lavishly,  as  earth  and  heaven, 

With  bounteous  hand,  dispense  their  costly  gifts, 

Demanding  in  return  what  such  a  boon 

Alone  empowers  thee  to  demand  from  me. 

I  must  be  moderate,  I  must  forbear, 

And  thus  deserve  thy  cherished  confidence. 

What  have  I  ever  done  that  she  should  choose  me  ? 

What  can  I  do  to  merit  her  regard  ? 

Her  very  confidence  doth  prove  thy  worth. 

Yes,  princess,  to  thine  every  word  and  look 

Be  my  whole  soul  for  ever  consecrate  ! 

Ask  what  thou  wilt,  for  I  am  wholly  thine  ! 

To  distant  regions  let  her  send  me  forth 

In  quest  of  toil  and  danger  and  renown ; 

Or  in  the  grove,  present  the  golden  lyre, 

Devoting  me  to  quiet  and  her  praise. 

Hers  am  I :   me  possessing,  she  shall  mould  ! 

For  her  my  heart  hath  garnered  every  treasure. 

Oh,  hath  some  heavenly  power  bestowed  on  me 

An  organ  thousand-fold,  I  scarcely  then 

Could  utter  forth  my  speechless  reverence. 

The  painter's  pencil,  and  the  poet's  lip. 

The  sweetest  that  e'er  sipped  the  vernal  honey, 

I  covet  now.     No !  Tasso  shall  henceforth 

Wander  no  more  forlorn,  'mong  trees,  'mong  men, 

Lonely  and  weak,  oppressed  with  gloomy  care ! 

He  is  no  more  alone,  he  is  with  thee. 

Oh,  would  that  visibly  the  noblest  deed 

Were  present  here  before  me,  circled  round 

With  grisly  danger  !     Onward  I  would  rush, 

And  with  a  joyous  spirit  risk  the  life 

Now  from  her  hand  received  —  the  choicest  men 


142  TORQUATO  TASSO 

As  comrades  I  would  hail,  a  noble  band, 
To  execute  her  will  and  high  behest, 
And  consummate  what  seemed  impossible. 
Rash  mortal !  wherefore  did  thy  lip  not  hide 
What  thou  didst  feel,  till  thou  couldst  lay  thyself 
Worthy,  and  ever  worthier,  at  her  feet  ? 
Such  was  thy  purpose,  such  thy  prudent  wish ! 
Yet  be  it  so !     'Tis  sweeter  to  receive, 
Free  and  unmerited,  so  fair  a  boon, 
Than,  with  self-flattery,  dream  one  might  perchance 
Successfully  have  claimed  it.     Gaze  with  joy  ! 
So  vast,  so  boundless,  all  before  thee  lies  ! 
And  youth,  with  hope  inspired,  allures  thee  on 
Towards  the  future's  unknown,  sunny  realms  ! 
My  bosom,  heave  !  propitious  seasons  smile 
Once  more  with  genial  influence  on  this  plant ! 
.It  springeth  heavenward,  and  shooteth  out 
A  thousand  branches  that  unfold  in  bloom. 
Oh,  may  it  bring  forth  fruit,  —  ambrosial  fruit ! 
And  may  a  hand  beloved  the  golden  spoil 
Cull  from  its  verdant  and  luxuriant  boughs ! 


Scene  III.  —  Tasso,  Antonio. 

TASSO. 

Gladly  I  welcome  thee :  it  seems  indeed 
As  though  I  saw  thee  for  the  first  time  now ! 
Ne'er  was  arrival  more  auspicious.     Welcome ! 
I  know  thee  now,  and  all  thy  varied  worth. 
Promptly  I  offer  thee  my  heart  and  hand. 
And  trust  that  thou  wilt  not  despise  my  love. 

ANTONIO. 

Freely  thou  ofFerest  a  precious  gift : 
Its  worth  I  duly  estimate,  and  hence 


TORQUATO  TASSO  143 

Would  pause  awhile  before  accepting  it. 
I  know  uot  yet  if  I  can  render  thee 
A  full  equivalent.     Not  willingly 
Would  I  o'erhasty  or  unthankful  seem : 
Let,  then,  my  sober  caution  serve  for  both. 

TASSO. 

What  man  would  censure  caution  ?     Every  step 
Of  life  doth  prove  that  'tis  most  requisite ; 
Yet  nobler  is  it,  when  the  soul  reveals, 
Where  we,  with  prudent  foresight,  may  dispense. 

ANTONIO. 

The  heart  of  each  be  here  his  oracle, 
Since  each  his  error  must  himself  atone. 

TASSO. 

So  let  it  be  !     My  duty  I've  performed : 

It  is  the  princess'  wish  we  should  be  friends ; 

Her  words  I  honoured  and  thy  friendship  sought. 

I  wished  not  to  hold  back,  Antonio ; 

But  I  will  never  be  importunate. 

Time  and  more  near  acquaintance  may  induce  thee 

To  give  a  warmer  welcome  to  the  gift 

Which  now  thou  dost  reject,  almost  with  scorn. 

ANTONIO. 

Oft  is  the  moderate  man  named  cold  by  those 
Who  think  themselves  more  warm  than  other  men, 
Because  a  transient  glow  comes  over  them. 

TASSO. 

Thou  blamest  what  I  blame,  —  what  I  avoid. 
Young  as  I  am,  I  ever  must  prefer 
Unshaken  constancy  to  vehemence. 


144  TORQUATO  TASSO 

ANTONIO. 

Most  wisely  said !     Keep  ever  in  this  mind. 

TASSO. 

Thou'rt  authorised  to  counsel  and  to  warn ; 
For  hke  a  faithful,  time-approved  friend, 
Experience  holds  her  station  at  thy  side. 
But  trust  me,  sir,  the  meditative  heart 
Attends  the  warning  of  each  day  and  hour, 
And  practises  in  secret  every  virtue, 
Which  in  thy  rigour  thou  wouldst  teach  anew. 

ANTONIO. 

'Twere  well  to  be  thus  occupied  with  self, 

If  it  were  only  profitable  too. 

His  inmost  nature  no  man  learns  to  know 

By  introspection  :  still  he  rates  himself. 

Sometimes  too  low,  but  oft,  alas  !  too  high. 

Self-knowledge  comes  from  knowing  other  men : 

'Tis  life  reveals  to  each  his  genuine  worth. 

TASSO. 

I  listen  with  applause  and  reverence. 

ANTONIO. 

Yet  to  my  words  I  know  thou  dost  attach 
A  meaning  wholly  foreign  to  my  thought. 

TASSO. 

Proceeding  thus,  we  ne'er  shall  draw  more  near. 
It  is  not  prudent,  'tis  not  well,  to  meet 
With  purposed  misconception  any  man, 
Let  him  be  who  he  may !     The  princess'  word 


TORQUATO  TASSO  145 

I  scarcely  needed  ;  —  I  have  read  thy  soul : 
Good  thou  dost  purpose  and  accomplish  too. 
Thine  own  immediate  fate  concerns  thee  not. 
Thou  thinkest  of  others,  others  thou  dost  aid ; 
And  on  hfe's  sea,  vexed  by  each  passing  gale, 
Thou  boldest  a  heart  unmoved.     I  view  thee  thus ; 
What,  then,  were  I,  did  I  not  draw  toward  thee  ? 
Did  I  not  even  keenly  seek  a  share 
Of  the  locked  treasure  which  thy  bosom  guards  ? 
Open  thine  heart  to  me,  thou'lt  not  repent ; 
Know  me,  and  I  sure  am  thou'lt  be  my  friend ; 
Of  such  a  friend  I  long  have  felt  the  need. 
My  inexperience,  my  ungoverned  youth. 
Cause  me  no  shame ;  for  still  around  my  brow 
The  future's  golden  clouds  in  brightness  rest. 
Oh,  to  thy  bosom  take  me,  noble  man ! 
Into  the  wise,  the  temperate  use  of  life 
Initiate  my  rash,  my  unfledged  youth. 


ANTONIO. 

Thou  in  a  single  moment  wouldst  demand 
What  time  and  circumspection  only  yield. 


TASSO. 

In  one  brief  moment  love  has  power  to  give 

What  anxious  toil  wins  not  in  lengthened  years. 

I  do  not  ask  it  from  thee,  I  demand. 

I  summon  thee  in  Virtue's  sacred  name, 

For  she  is  zealous  to  unite  the  good ; 

And  shall  I  name  to  thee  another  name  ? 

The  princess,  she  doth  wish  it,  —  Leonora. 

Me  she  would  lead  to  thee,  and  thee  to  me. 

Oh,  let  us  meet  her  wish  with  kindred  hearts ! 

United  let  us  to  the  goddess  haste. 

To  offer  her  our  service,  our  whole  souls, 


146  TORQUATO  TASSO 

Leagued  to  achieve  for  her  the  noblest  aims. 

Yet  once  again  !  —  Here  is  my  hand  !     Give  thine  ! 

I  do  entreat,  hold  thyself  back  no  longer, 

0  noble  man,  and  grudge  me  not  the  joy, 

The  good  man's  fairest  joy,  without  reserve, 

Freely  to  yield  himself  to  nobler  men  ! 


ANTONIO. 

Thou  goest  with  full  sail !     It  would  appear 
Thou'rt  wont  to  conquer,  everywhere  to  find 
The  pathways  spacious  and  the  portals  wide. 
I  grudge  thee  not  or  merit  or  success,  — 
Only  I  see  indeed,  too  plainly  see, 
We  from  each  other  stand  too  far  apart. 


TASSO. 

It  may  be  so  in  years  and  time-tried  worth ;  — 
In  courage  and  good  will  I  yield  to  none. 


ANTONIO. 

Good  will  doth  oft  prove  deedless :  courage  still 
Pictures  the  goal  less  distant  than  it  is. 
His  brow  alone  is  crowned  who  reaches  it. 
And  oft  a  worthier  must  forego  the  crown. 
Yet  wreaths  there  are  of  very  different  fashion, — 
Light,  worthless  wreaths,  which,  idly  stroUing  on, 
The  loiterer  oft  without  the  toil  obtains. 


TASSO. 

What  a  divinity  to  one  accords. 

And  from  another  sternly  doth  withhold. 

Is  not  obtained  by  each  man  as  he  lists. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  147 

ANTONIO. 

To  Fortune  before  other  gods  ascribe  it : 
I'll  hear  thee  gladly,  for  her  choice  is  blind. 

TASSO. 

Impartial  Justice  also  wears  a  band, 

And  to  each  bright  illusion  shuts  her  eyes. 

ANTONIO. 

Fortune  'tis  for  the  fortunate  to  praise ! 

Let  him  ascribe  to  her  a  hundred  eyes 

To  scan  desert,  —  stern  judgment,  and  wise  choice. 

Call  her  Minerva,  call  her  what  he  will, 

He  holds  as  just  reward  her  golden  gifts, 

Chance  ornament  as  symbol  of  desert. 

TASSO. 

Thou  needest  not  speak  more  plainly.     'Tis  enough  ! 

Deeply  I  see  into  thine  inmost  heart, 

And  know  thee  now  for  life.     Oh,  would  that  so 

My  princess  knew  thee  also  !     Lavish  not 

The  arrows  of  thine  eyes  and  of  thy  tongue  1 

In  vain  thou  aimest  at  the  fadeless  wreath 

Entwined  around  my  brow.     First  be  so  great 

As  not  to  envy  me  the  laurel  wreath. 

And  then  perchance  thou  mayst  dispute  the  prize. 

I  deem  it  sacred,  yea,  the  highest  good ; 

Yet  only  show  me  him,  who  hath  attained 

That  after  which  I  strive ;  show  me  the  hero, 

Of  whom  on  history's  ample  page  I  read ; 

The  poet  place  before  me,  who  himself 

With  Homer  or  with  Virgil  may  compare ; 

Ay,  what  is  more,  let  me  behold  the  man 

Who  hath  deserved  threefold  this  recompense, 


148  TORQUATO  TASSO 

And  yet  can  wear  the  laurel  round  his  brow, 

With  modesty  thrice  greater  than  my  own, — 

Then  at  the  feet  of  the  divinity 

Who  thus  endowed  me,  thou  shouldst  see  me  kneel, 

Nor  would  I  stand  erect,  till  from  my  brow 

She  had  to  his  the  ornament  transferred. 


ANTONIO. 

Till  then  thou'rt  doubtless  worthy  of  the  crown. 

TASSO. 

Let  me  be  justly  weighed  ;  I  shun  it  not : 
But  your  contempt  I  never  have  deserved. 
The  wreath  considered  by  my  prince  my  due. 
Which  for  my  brow  my  princess'  hand  entwined. 
None  shall  dispute  with  me,  and  none  asperse ! 

ANTONIO. 

This  haughty  tone,  methinks,  becomes  thee  not, 
Nor  this  rash  glow,  unseemly  in  this  place. 

TASSO. 

The  tone  thou  takest  here,  becomes  me  too. 

Say,  from  these  precincts  is  the  truth  exiled  ? 

Within  the  palace  is  free  thought  imprisoned  ? 

Here  must  the  noble  spirit  be  oppressed  ? 

This  is  nobihty's  appropriate  seat,  — 

The  soul's  nobihty !  and  may  she  not, 

In  presence  of  earth's  mighty  ones,  rejoice  ? 

She  may  and  shall.     Nobles  draw  near  the  prince 

In  virtue  of  the  rank  their  sires  bequeathed : 

Why  should  not  genius,  then,  which  partial  Nature 

Grants,  like  a  glorious  ancestry,  to  few  ? 


TORQUATO  TASSO  149 


Here  littleness  alone  should  feel  confused, 
And  envy  shun  to  manifest  its  shame ; 
As  no  insidious  spider  should  attach 
Its  noisome  fabric  to  these  marble  walls. 


ANTONIO. 


Thyself  dost  show  that  my  contempt  is  just ! 
The  impetuous  youth,  forsooth,  would  seize  by  force 
The  confidence  and  friendship  of  the  man ! 
Eude  as  thou  art,  doth  think  thyself  of  worth  ? 


TASSO. 

I'd  rather  be  what  thou  esteemest  rude, 
Than  what  I  must  myself  esteem  ignoble. 

ANTONIO. 

Thou  art  still  so  young  that  wholesome  chastisement 
May  tutor  thee  to  hold  a  better  course. 

TASSO. 

Not  young  enough  to  bow  to  idols  down, 
Yet  old  enough  to  conquer  scorn  with  scorn. 

ANTONIO. 

From  contests  of  the  lip  and  of  the  lyre, 
A  conquering  hero,  thou  mayst  issue  forth. 

TASSO. 

It  were  presumptuous  to  extol  my  arm  ; 
As  yet  'tis  deedless ;  still  I'll  trust  to  it. 


15°  TORQUATO  TASSO 


ANTONIO. 

Thou  trustest  to  forbearance,  which  too  long 
Hath  spoiled  thee  in  thine  insolent  career. 

TASSO. 

That  I  am  grown  to  manhood,  now  I  feel : 

It  would  have  been  the  farthest  from  my  wish 

To  try  with  thee  the  doubtful  game  of  arms ; 

But  thou  dost  stir  the  inward  fire ;  my  blood, 

My  inmost  marrow,  boils ;  the  fierce  desire 

Of  vengeance  seethes  and  foams  within  my  breast. 

Art  thou  the  man  thou  boastest  thyself,  —  then  stand. 

ANTONIO. 

Thou  knowest  as  little  who,  as  where,  thou  art. 

TASSO. 

No  fane  so  sacred  as  to  shield  contempt. 

Thou  dost  blaspheme,  thou  dost  profane,  this  spot, 

Not  I,  who  fairest  offerings  —  confidence, 

Eespect,  and  love  —  for  thine  acceptance  brought. 

Thy  spirit  desecrates  this  paradise, 

And  thy  injurious  words  this  sacred  hall, — 

Not  the  indignant  heaving  of  my  breast. 

Which  boils  to  wipe  away  the  slightest  stain. 

ANTONIO. 

What  a  high  spirit  in  a  narrow  breast ! 

TASSO. 

Here  there  is  space  to  vent  the  bosom's  rage. 

ANTONIO. 

The  rabble  also  vent  their  rage  in  words. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  151 

TASSO. 

Art  thou  of  noble  blood  as  I  am,  draw. 

ANTONIO. 

I  am,  but  I  remember  where  I  stand. 

TASSO. 

Come,  then,  below,  where  weapons  may  avail. 

ANTONIO. 

Thou  shouldst  not  challenge,  therefore  I'll  not  follow. 

TASSO. 

To  cowards  welcome  such  impediments. 

ANTONIO. 

The  coward  only  threats  where  he's  secure. 

TASSO. 
With  joy  would  I  relinquish  this  defence. 

ANTONIO. 

Degrade  thyself :  degrade  the  place  thou  canst  not. 

TASSO. 

The  place  forgive  me  that  I  suffered  it ! 

{He  draws  his  sword) 
Or  draw  or  follow,  if,  as  now  I  hate, 
I'm  not  to  scorn  thee  to  eternity ! 


152  TORQUATO  TASSO 

Scene  IV.  —  Tasso,  Antonio,  Alphonso. 

ALPHONSO. 

In  what  unlooked-for  strife  I  find  you  both  ? 

ANTONIO, 

Calm  and  unmoved,  0  prince,  thou  findest  me  here, 
Before  a  man  whom  passion's  rage  hath  seized  ! 

TASSO, 

As  a  divinity  I  worship  thee 

That  thus  thou  tamest  me  with  one  warning  look. 

ALPHONSO, 

Eelate,  Antonio,  Tasso,  teU  me  straight ;  — 
Say,  why  doth  discord  thus  invade  my  house  ? 
How  hath  it  seized  you  both,  and  hurried  you 
Confused  and  reeling  from  the  beaten  track 
Of  decency  and  law  !     I  stand  amazed, 

TASSO, 

I  feel  it,  thou  dost  know  nor  him,  nor  me. 

This  man,  reputed  temperate  and  wise. 

Hath  toward  me,  hke  a  rude,  ill-mannered  churl, 

Behaved  himself  with  spiteful  insolence. 

I  sought  him  trustfully,  he  thrust  me  back : 

With  constancy  I  pressed  myself  on  him ; 

And  still,  with  growing  bitterness  imbued, 

He  rested  not  till  he  had  turned  to  gall 

My  blood's  pure  current.     Pardon  !     Thou,  my  prince. 

Hast  found  me  here,  possessed  with  furious  rage. 

If  guilty,  to  this  man  the  guilt  is  due : 

With  violence  he  fanned  the  fiery  glow 

Which,  seizing  me,  hath  injured  both  of  us. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  153 


ANTONIO. 


Poetic  frenzy  hurried  him  away ! 
Thou  hast,  0  prince !  addressed  thyself  to  me, 
Hast  questioned  me :  be  it  to  me  allowed 
After  this  rapid  orator  to  speak. 


TASSO. 

Oh,  yes  !  repeat  again  each  several  word  ; 
And  if  before  this  judge  thou  canst  recall 
Each  syllable,  each  look,  —  then  dare  to  do  so ! 
Disgrace  thyself  a  second  time,  and  bear 
Witness  against  thyself  !     I'll  not  disown 
A  single  pulse-throb,  nor  a  single  breath. 


ANTONIO. 

If  thou  hast  somewhat  more  to  say,  proceed  ; 

If  not,  forbear,  and  interrupt  me  not. 

Whether  at  first  this  fiery  youth  or  I 

Began  this  quarrel,  whether  he  or  I 

Must  bear  the  blame,  is  a  wide  question,  prince, 

Which  stands  apart,  and  need  not  be  discussed. 


TASSO. 

How  so  ?     The  primal  question  seems  to  me. 
Which  of  the  two  is  right,  and  which  is  wrong. 


ANTONIO. 

Not  so  precisely,  as  the  ungoverned  mind 
Might  first  suppose, 

ALPHONSO, 

Antonio  ! 


154  TORQUATO  TASSO 

ANTONIO. 

Gracious  prince ! 
Thy  hint  I  honour,  but  let  him  forbear ; 
When  I  have  spoken,  he  may  then  proceed  : 
Thy  voice  must  then  decide.     I've  but  to  say, 
I  can  no  longer  with  this  man  contend ; 
Can  nor  accuse  him,  nor  defend  myself, 
Nor  give  the  satisfaction  he  desires  ; 
For,  as  he  stands,  he  is  no  longer  free. 
There  hangeth  over  him  a  heavy  law. 
Which,  at  the  most,  thy  favour  may  relax. 
Here  hath  he  dared  to  threat,  to  challenge  me, 
Scarce  in  thy  presence  sheathed  his  naked  sword ; 
And  if  between  us,  prince,  thou  hadst  not  stepped. 
Obnoxious  to  reproof,  I  now  had  stood. 
Before  thy  sight,  the  partner  of  his  fault. 


ALPHONSO    (to   TASSO). 

Thou  hast  not  acted  well. 

TASSO, 

Mine  own  heart,  prince, 
And  surely  thine,  doth  speak  me  wholly  free. 
Yes,  true  it  is,  I  threatened,  challenged,  drew  ; 
But  how  mahciously  his  guileful  tongue, 
With  words  well-chosen,  pierced  me  to  the  quick ! 
How  sharp  and  rapidly  his  biting  tooth 
The  subtle  venom  in  my  blood  infused  ! 
How  more  and  more  the  fever  he  inflamed  — 
Thou  thinkest  not !  -cold  and  unmoved  himself, 
He  to  the  highest  pitch  excited  me. 
Thou  knowest  him  not,  and  thou  wilt  never  know  him ! 
Warmly  I  tendered  him  the  fairest  friendship ; 
Down  at  my  feet  he  flung  the  proffered  gift : 


TORQUATO  TASSO  155 

And  had  my  spirit  not  with  anger  glowed, 
Of  thy  fair  service  and  thy  princely  grace 
I  were  for  aye  unworthy.     If  the  law 
I  have  forgotten,  and  this  place,  forgive ! 
The  spot  exists  not  where  I  dare  be  base, 
Nor  yet  where  I  debasement  dare  endure. 
But  if  this  heart  in  any  place  be  false, 
Or  to  itself,  or  thee,  —  condemn,  reject,  — 
And  let  me  ne'er  again  behold  thy  face. 


ANTONIO. 

How  easily  the  youth  bears  heavy  loads, 

And  shaketh  misdemeanours  off  like  dust ! 

It  were  indeed  a  marvel,  knew  I  not 

Of  magic  poesy  the  wondrous  power, 

Which  loveth  still  with  the  impossible 

In  frolic  mood  to  sport.     I  almost  doubt 

Whether  to  thee,  and  to  thy  ministers, 

This  deed  will  seem  so  insignificant. 

For  Majesty  extends  its  shield  o'er  all 

Who  draw  near  its  inviolate  abode. 

And  bow  before  it  as  a  deity : 

As  at  the  altar's  consecrated  foot, 

So  on  its  sacred  threshold  rage  subsides ; 

No  sword  there  gleams,  no  threatening  word  resounds. 

E'en  injured  innocence  seeks  no  revenge. 

The  common  earth  aff  ordeth  ample  scope 

For  bitter  hate,  and  rage  implacable. 

There  will  no  coward  threat,  no  true  man  flee : 

Thy  ancestors,  on  sure  foundations,  based 

These  walls,  fit  shelter  for  their  dignity. 

And,  with  wise  forecast,  hedged  the  palace  round 

With  fearful  penalties.     Of  all  transgressors. 

Exile,  confinement,  death,  the  certain  doom. 

Eespect  of  persons  was  not,  nor  did  mercy 

The  arm  of  justice  venture  to  restrain. 


156  TORQUATO  TASSO 

The  boldest  culprit  felt  himself  o'erawed. 
And  now,  after  a  lengthened  reign  of  peace, 
We  must  behold  unhcensed  rage  invade 
The  realm  of  sacred  order.     Judge,  0  prince, 
And  punish  !  for  unguarded  by  the  law. 
Unshielded  by  liis  sovereign,  who  will  dare 
To  keep  the  narrow  path  that  duty  bounds  ? 

ALPHONSO. 

More  than  your  words,  or  aught  that  ye  could  say, 

My  own  impartial  feelings  let  me  heed. 

If  that  your  duty  ye  had  both  fulfilled, 

I  should  not  have  this  judgment  to  pronounce  ; 

For  here  the  right  and  wrong  are  near  allied. 

If  that  Antonio  hath  offended  thee, 

Due  satisfaction  he  must  doubtless  give, 

In  such  a  sort  as  thou  shalt  choose  to  ask. 

I  gladly  would  be  chosen  arbiter. 

{To  Tasso.) 
Meanwhile  thy  misdemeanour  subjects  thee 
To  brief  confinement,  Tasso.     I  forgive  thee, 
And  therefore,  for  thy  sake,  relax  the  law. 
Now  leave  us,  and  within  thy  chamber  bide, 
Thyself  thy  sole  companion,  thy  sole  guard. 

TASSO. 

Is  this,  then,  thy  judicial  sentence,  prince  ? 

ANTONIO. 

Discernest  thou  not  a  father's  lenity  ? 

TASSO    {to  ANTONIO). 

With  thee,  henceforth,  I  have  no  more  to  say. 
Thine  earnest  word,  0  prince,  delivers  me, 

{To  Alphonso). 


TORQUATO  TASSO  157 

A  freeman  to  captivity  !     So  be  it ! 

Thou  deemest  it  right.     Thy  sacred  word  I  hear, 

And  counsel  silence  to  mine  inmost  heart. 

It  seems  so  strange,  so  strange,  —  myself  and  thee, 

This  sacred  spot  I  scarce  can  recognise. 

Yet  him  I  know  full  well.     Oh  !  there  is  much 

I  might  and  ought  to  say,  yet  I  submit. 

My  Hps  are  mute.     Was  it  indeed  a  crime  ? 

At  least,  they  treat  me  as  a  criminal. 

Howe'er  my  heart  rebel,  I'm  captive  now. 

ALPHONSO. 

Thou  takest  it,  Tasso,  more  to  heart  than  I. 

TASSO. 

To  me  it  still  is  inconceivable ; 

And  yet  not  so,  I  am  no  child.     Methinks 

I  should  be  able  to  unravel  it. 

A  sudden  light  breaks  in  upon  my  soul ; 

As  suddenly  it  leaves  me  in  the  dark ; 

I  only  hear  my  sentence,  and  submit. 

These  are,  indeed,  superfluous,  idle  words  ! 

Henceforth  inure  thy  spirit  to  obey. 

Weak  mortal !     To  forget  where  thou  didst  stand  ! 

Thou  didst  forget  how  high  the  abode  of  gods. 

And  now  art  staggered  by  the  sudden  fall. 

Promptly  obey,  for  it  becomes  a  man. 

Each  painful  duty  to  perform  with  joy. 

Take  back  the  sword  thou  gavest  me,  what  time 

The  cardinal  I  followed  into  France. 

Though  not  vnth  glory,  not  with  shame,  I  wore  it,  — 

No,  not  to-day.     The  bright,  auspicious  gift. 

With  heart  sore  troubled,  I  reUnquish  now. 

ALPHONSO. 

Thou  knowest  not,  Tasso,  how  I  feel  toward  thee. 


158  TORQUATO  TASSO 

TASSO. 

My  lot  is  to  obey,  and  not  to  think ! 
And  destiny,  alas  !  demands  from  me 
Renunciation  of  this  precious  gift. 
Ill  doth  a  crown  become  a  captive's  brow. 
I  from  my  head  myself  remove  the  wreath 
Wliich  seemed  accorded  for  eternity. 
Too  early  was  the  dearest  bliss  bestowed. 
And  is,  alas  !  as  if  I  had  been  boastful. 
Too  early  taken  away. 

Thou  takest  back  what  none  beside  could  take, 
And  what  no  god  a  second  time  accords. 
We  mortals  are  most  wonderfully  tried  : 
We  could  not  bear  it,  were  we  not  endowed 
By  Nature  with  a  kindly  levity. 
Calmly  necessity  doth  tutor  us 
With  priceless  treasures  lavishly  to  sport : 
Our  hands  we  open  of  our  own  free  will  — 
The  prize  escapes  us,  ne'er  to  be  recalled. 
A  tear  doth  mingle  with  this  parting  kiss, 
Devoting  thee  to  mutability  ! 
This  tender  sign  of  weakness  may  be  pardoned ! 
Who  would  not  weep  when  what  was  deemed  immortal 
Yields  to  destruction's  power !     Now  to  this  sword 
(Alas,  it  won  thee  not)  ally  thyself. 
And  round  it  twined,  as  on  a  hero's  bier 
Eeposing,  mark  the  grave  where  buried  lie 
My  short-lived  happiness,  my  withered  hopes ! 
Here  at  thy  feet,  0  prince,  I  lay  them  down ! 
For  who  is  justly  armed  if  thou  art  wroth  ? 
Who  justly  crowned,  on  whom  thy  brow  is  bent  ? 
I  go  a  captive  and  await  my  doom.  \Exit. 

{On  a  sign  from  the  prince,  a  page  raises  the  sword 
and  loreath,  and  tears  them  away.) 


TORQUATO  TASSO  159 


Scene  V.  —  Alfhonso,  Antonio. 

ANTONIO. 

Wliither  doth  frenzied  fancy  lead  the  boy  ? 
And  in  what  colours  doth  he  picture  forth 
His  high  desert  and  glorious  destiny  ? 
Rash,  inexperienced,  youth  esteems  itself 
A  chosen  instrument,  and  arrogates 
Unbounded  license.     He  has  been  chastised  ; 
And  chastisement  is  profit  to  the  boy. 
For  which  the  man  will  render  cordial  thanks. 


ALPHONSO. 

He  is  chastised  too  painfully,  I  fear. 

ANTONIO. 

Art  thou  disposed  to  practise  lenity. 

Restore  to  him  his  liberty,  0  prince  ! 

And  then  the  sword  may  arbitrate  our  strife. 

ALPHONSO. 

So  be  it,  if  the  public  voice  demands. 

But  tell  me,  how  didst  thou  provoke  his  ire  ? 

ANTONIO. 

In  sooth,  I  scarce  can  say  how  it  befell. 

As  man,  I  may  perchance  have  wounded  him. 

As  nobleman,  I  gave  him  no  offence. 

And,  in  the  very  tempest  of  his  rage. 

No  word  unseemly  hath  escaped  this  hp. 


i6o  TORQUATO  TASSO 

ALPHONSO. 

Of  such  a  sort  your  quarrel  seemed  to  me, 
And  your  own  word  confirms  me  in  my  thought. 
When  men  dispute  we  justly  may  esteem 
The  wiser  the  offender.     Thou  with  Tasso 
Shouldst  not  contend,  but  rather  guide  his  steps : 
It  would  become  thee  more.     'Tis  not  too  late. 
The  sword's  decision  is  not  called  for  here. 
So  long  as  I  am  blessed  with  peace  abroad. 
So  long  would  I  enjoy  it  in  my  house. 
Eestore  tranquillity,  —  thou  canst  with  ease. 
Leonora  Sanvitale  may  at  first 
Attempt  to  soothe  him  with  her  honeyed  lip ; 
Then  go  thou  to  him ;  in  my  name  restore 
His  liberty ;  with  true  and  noble  words 
Endeavour  to  obtain  his  confidence. 
Accomplish  this  with  all  the  speed  thou  canst : 
As  a  kind  friend  and  father  speak  with  him. 
Peace  I  would  know  restored  ere  I  depart : 
All,  if  thou  wilt,  is  possible  to  thee. 
We  gladly  will  remain  another  hour. 
Then  leave  it  to  the  ladies'  gentle  tact 
To  consummate  the  work  commenced  by  thee. 
So  when  we  come  again,  the  last  faint  trace 
Of  this  rash  quarrel  will  be  quite  effaced. 
It  seems  thy  talents  will  not  rust,  Antonio ! 
Scarcely  hast  thou  concluded  one  affair. 
And  on  thy  first  return  thou  seekest  another. 
In  this  new  mission  may  success  be  thine ! 

ANTONIO. 

I  am  ashamed :  my  error  in  thy  words. 

As  in  the  clearest  mirror,  I  discern ! 

How  easy  to  obey  a  noble  prince 

Wlio  doth  convince  us  whUe  he  doth  command ! 


TORQUATO  TASSO  l6i 

ACT    III. 

Scene  I. 

PRINCESS  {alone). 

Where  tarries  Leonora  ?     Anxious  fear, 
Augmenting  every  moment,  agitates 
My  inmost  heart.     Scarce  know  I  what  befell ; 
Which  party  is  to  blame  I  scarcely  know. 
Oh,  that  she  would  return !    I  would  not  yet 
Speak  with  my  brother,  with  Antonio, 
Till  I  am  more  composed,  till  I  have  heard 
How  matters  stand,  and  what  may  be  the  issue. 

Scene  II.  —  Princess,  Leonora. 

princess. 

What  tidings,  Leonora  ?     Tell  me  all : 

How  stands  it  with  our  friends  ?     Say,  what  befell  ? 

LEONORA. 

More  than  I  knew  before  I  have  not  learned. 
Contention  rose  between  them  ;  Tasso  drew  ; 
Thy  brother  parted  them :  yet  it  would  seem 
That  it  was  Tasso  who  began  the  fray. 
Antonio  is  at  large,  and  with  his  prince 
Converses  freely.     Tasso,  in  his  chamber, 
Abides  meanwhile,  a  captive  and  alone. 

PRINCESS. 

Doubtless  Antonio  irritated  him, 

And  met  with  cold  disdain  the  high-toned  youth. 

LEONORA. 

I  do  believe  it :  when  he  joined  us  first, 
A  cloud  already  brooded  o'er  his  brow. 


i62  TORQUATO  TASSO 


PEINCESS. 


Alas,  that  we  so  often  disregard 

The  pure  and  silent  warnings  of  the  heart ! 

Softly  a  god  doth  whisper  in  our  breast, 

Softly,  yet  audibly,  doth  counsel  us. 

Both  what  we  ought  to  seek  and  what  to  shun. 

Tliis  morn  Antonio  hath  appeared  to  me 

E'en  more  abrupt  than  ever,  —  more  reserved. 

When  at  his  side  I  saw  our  youthful  bard. 

My  spirit  warned  me.      Only  mark  of  each 

The  outward  aspect,  —  countenance  and  tone, 

Look,  gesture,  bearing !     Everything  opposed : 

Affection  they  can  never  interchange. 

Yet  Hope  persuaded  me,  the  flatterer : 

They  both  are  sensible,  she  fondly  urged. 

Both  noble,  gently  nurtured,  and  thy  friends. 

What  bond  more  sure  than  that  which  links  the  good  ? 

I  urged  the  youth  :  with  what  devoted  zeal, 

How  ardently,  he  gave  himself  to  me ! 

Would  I  had  spoken  to  Antonio  then ! 

But  I  delayed ;  so  recent  his  return, 

That  I  felt  shy,  at  once  and  urgently, 

To  recommend  the  youth  to  his  regard : 

On  custom  I  relied,  and  courtesy. 

And  on  the  common  usage  of  the  world. 

E'en  between  foes  which  smoothly  intervenes. 

I  dreaded  not  from  the  experienced  man 

The  rash  impetuosity  of  youth. 

The  ill  seemed  distant,  now,  alas,  'tis  here. 

Oh,  give  me  counsel .'     What  is  to  be  done  ? 

LEONOKA. 

Thy  words,  my  princess,  show  that  thou  dost  feel 
How  hard  it  is  to  counsel.     'Tis  not  here 
Between  congenial  minds  a  misconception : 
A  word,  if  needful  an  appeal  to  arms, 


TORQUATO  TASSO  163 

Peace  in  such  case  might  happily  restore. 
Two  men  they  are,  who  therefore  are  opposed, 
I've  felt  it  long,  because  by  Nature  cast 
In  moulds  so  opposite,  that  she  the  twain 
Could  never  weld  into  a  single  man. 
And  were  they  to  consult  their  common  weal, 
A  league  of  closest  friendship  they  would  form : 
Then  as  one  man  their  path  they  would  pursue, 
With  power  and  joy  and  happiness  through  hfe. 
I  hoped  it  once,  I  now  perceive  in  vain. 
To-day's  contention,  whatsoe'er  the  cause, 
Might  be  appeased ;  but  this  assures  us  not 
Or  for  the  morrow,  or  for  future  time. 
Methinks  'twere  best,  that  Tasso  for  awhile 
Should  journey  hence :  to  Kome  he  might  repair. 
To  Florence  also  bend  forthwith  his  course ; 
A  few  weeks  later  I  should  meet  him  there. 
And  as  a  friend  could  work  upon  his  mind : 
Thou  couldest  here  meanwhile  Antonio, 
Wlio  has  become  almost  a  stranger  to  us. 
Once  more  within  thy  fiiendly  circle  bring ; 
And  thus  benignant  time,  that  grants  so  much, 
Might  grant,  perchance,  what  seems  impossible. 


PEINCESS. 

A  happiness  will  thus,  my  friend,  be  thine, 
Which  I  must  needs  forego ;  say,  is  that  right  ? 


LEONORA. 

Thou  only  wouldst  forego  what  thou  thyself. 
As  things  at  present  stand,  couldst  not  enjoy. 


PRINCESS. 

So  calmly  shall  I  banish  hence  a  friend  ? 


164  TORQUATO  TASSO 

LEONORA. 

Eather  retain  whom  thou  dost  seem  to  banish. 

PRINCESS. 

The  duke  will  ne'er  consent  to  part  with  him. 

LEONORA. 

"When  he  shall  see  as  we  do,  he  will  yield. 

PRINCESS. 

'Tis  painful  in  one's  friend  to  doom  one's  self. 

LEONORA. 

Yet,  with  thy  friend,  thou'lt  also  save  thyself. 

PRINCESS. 

I  cannot  give  my  voice  that  this  shall  be. 

LEONORA. 

An  evil  still  more  grievous  then  expect. 

PRINCESS. 

Thou  givest  me  pain,  —  uncertain  thy  success. 

LEONORA. 

Ere  long  we  shall  discover  who  doth  err. 

PRINCESS. 

Well,  if  it  needs  must  be  so,  say  no  more. 

LEONORA. 

He  conquers  grief  who  firmly  can  resolve. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  165 

PRINCESS. 

Eesolved  I  am  not :  nathless  let  it  be, 
If  he  for  long  doth  not  absent  himself ; 
And  let  us,  Leonora,  care  for  him, 
That  he  may  never  be  oppressed  by  want, 
But  that  the  duke,  e'en  in  a  distant  land. 
May  graciously  assign  him  maintenance. 
Speak  with  Antonio :  with  my  brother  he 
Can  much  accomplish,  and  will  not  remember 
The  recent  strife,  against  our  friend  or  us. 


LEONORA, 

Princess,  a  word  from  thee  would  more  avail. 


PRINCESS. 

I  cannot,  well  thou  knowest,  Leonora, 
Solicit  favours  for  myself  and  friends, 
As  my  dear  sister  of  Urbino  can. 
A  calm,  secluded  life  I'm  fain  to  lead. 
And  from  my  brother  gratefully  accept 
Whate'er  his  princely  bounty  freely  grants. 
For  this  reluctance  once  I  blamed  myself : 
I've  conquered  now,  and  blame  myself  no  more. 
A  friend  full  oft  would  censure  me,  and  say, 
Unselfish  art  thou,  and  unselfishness 
Is  good ;  but  thou  dost  carry  it  so  far. 
That  even  the  requirements  of  a  friend 
Thou  canst  not  rightly  feel.     I  let  it  pass, 
And  even  this  reproach  must  also  bear. 
It  doth  the  more  rejoice  me,  that  I  now 
Can  be  in  truth  of  service  to  our  friend : 
My  mother's  heritage  descends  to  me. 
And  to  his  need  I'll  gladly  minister. 


/' 


i66  TORQUATO  TASSO 


LEONORA. 

Princess,  I,  too,  can  show  myself  his  friend. 

In  truth  he  is  no  thrifty  manager : 

My  skilful  aid  shall  help  him  where  he  fails. 

PRINCESS. 

Well,  take  him  then,  —  if  part  with  him  I  must. 

To  thee  before  all  others  be  he  given : 

I  now  perceive  it  will  be  better  so. 

This  sorrow  also  must  my  spirit  hail 

As  good  and  wholesome  ?     Such  my  doom  from  youth 

I  am  inured  to  it.     But  half  we  feel 

Eenunciation  of  a  precious  joy. 

When  we  have  deemed  its  tenure  insecure. 

LEONORA. 

Happy  according  to  thy  high  desert 
I  hope  to  see  thee. 

PRINCESS. 

Leonora !     Happy  ? 
Who,  then,  is  happy  ?  —     So  indeed  I  might 
Esteem  my  brother,  for  his  constant  mind 
Still  with  unswerving  temper  meets  his  fate ; 
Yet  even  he  ne'er  reaped  as  he  deserved. 
My  sister  of  Urbino,  is  she  happy  ? 
With  beauty  gifted  and  a  noble  heart ! 
Childless  she's  doomed  to  live :  her  younger  lord 
Values  her  highly,  and  upbraids  her  not ; 
But  happiness  is  stranger  to  their  home. 
Of  what  avail  our  mother's  prudent  skill. 
Her  varied  knowledge,  and  her  ample  mind  ? 
Her  could  they  shield  from  foreign  heresy  ? 
They  took  us  from  her :  now  she  is  no  more, 
And,  dying,  left  us  not  the  soothing  thought, 
That,  reconciled  with  God,  her  spirit  passed. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  167 

LEONORA. 

Oh,  mark  not  only  that  which  fails  to  each, 

Consider  rather  what  to  each  remains  ! 

And,  princess,  what  doth  not  remain  to  thee  ? 

PKINCESS. 

What  doth  remain  to  me,  Leonora  ?     Patience  ! 
Which  I  have  learned  to  practise  from  my  youth. 
When  friends  and  kindred,  knit  in  social  love, 
In  joyous  pastime  whiled  the  hours  away. 
Sickness  held  me  a  captive  in  my  chamber ; 
And,  in  the  sad  companionship  of  pain, 
I  early  learned  the  lesson,  —  to  endure  ! 
One  pleasure  cheered  me  in  my  solitude, — 
The  joy  of  song.     I  communed  with  myself. 
And  lulled,  with  soothing  tones,  the  sense  of  pain. 
The  restless  longing,  the  unquiet  wish. 
Till  sorrow  oft  would  grow  to  ravishment, 
And  sadness'  self  to  harmony  divine. 
Not  long,  alas !  this  comfort  was  allowed : 
The  leech's  stern  monition  silenced  me ; 
I  was  condemned  to  live  and  to  endure 
E'en  of  this  sole  remaining  joy  bereft. 

LEONORA. 

Yet  many  friends  attached  themselves  to  thee ; 
And  now  thou  art  in  health,  art  joyous  too. 

PRINCESS. 

I  am  in  health ;  that  is,  I  am  not  sick. 
And  many  friends  I  have,  whose  constancy 
Doth  cheer  my  heart ;  and,  ah  !  I  had  a  friend  — 

LEONORA. 

Thou  hast  him  still. 


i68  TORQUATO  TASSO 

PEINCESS. 

But  soon  must  part  with  him. 
That  moment  was  of  deep  significance 
When  first  I  saw  him.     Scarce  was  I  restored 
From  many  sorrows ;  sickness  and  dull  pain 
Were  scarce  subdued ;  with  shy  and  timid  glance 
I  gazed  once  more  on  life,  once  more  rejoiced 
In  the  glad  sunshine  and  my  kindred's  love 
And  hope's  dehcious  balm  inhaled  anew ; 
Forward  I  ventured  into  life  to  gaze, 
And  friendly  forms  saluted  me  from  far ; 
Then  was  it,  Leonora,  that  my  sister 
First  introduced  to  me  the  youthful  bard  : 
She  led  him  hither  ;  and,  shall  I  confess  ?  — 
My  heart  embraced  him,  and  will  hold  for  aye. 

LEONOEA. 

My  princess  !     Let  it  not  repent  thee  now ! 

To  apprehend  the  noble  is  a  gain 

Of  which  the  soul  can  never  be  bereft. 

PEINCESS. 

The  fair,  the  excellent,  we  needs  must  fear : 
'Tis  like  a  flame,  which  nobly  serveth  us, 
So  long  as  on  our  household  hearth  it  burns. 
Or  sheds  its  lustre  from  the  friendly  torch. 
How  lovely  then  !     Who  can  dispense  with  it  ? 
But  if,  unwatched,  it  spreads  destruction  round. 
What  anguish  it  occasions !     Leave  me  now, 
I  babble ;  and  'twere  better  to  conceal, 
Even  from  thee,  how  weak  I  am  and  sick. 

LEONOEA. 

The  sickness  of  the  heart  doth  soonest  yield 
To  tender  plaints  and  soothing  confidence. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  169 

PKINCESS. 

If  in  confiding  love  a  cure  be  found, 

I'm  whole,  so  strong  my  confidence  in  thee. 

Alas !  my  friend,  I  am  indeed  resolved : 

Let  him  depart !     But,  ah  !  I  feel  already 

The  long-protracted  anguish  of  the  day 

When  I  must  all  forego  that  glads  me  now. 

His  beauteous  form,  transfigured  in  my  dream, 

The  morning  sun  will  dissipate  no  more ; 

No  more  the  blissful  hope  of  seeing  him, 

With  joyous  longing,  fill  my  waking  sense ; 

Nor,  to  discover  him,  my  timid  glance 

Search  wistfully  our  garden's  dewy  shade. 

How  sweetly  was  the  tender  hope  fulfilled 

To  spend  each  eve  in  intercourse  with  him ! 

How,  while  conversing,  the  desire  increased. 

To  know  each  other  ever  more  and  more ; 

And  still  our  souls,  in  sweet  communion  joined, 

Were  daily  tuned  to  purer  harmonies. 

What  twilight-gloom  now  falls  around  my  path ! 

The  gorgeous  sun,  the  genial  light  of  day. 

Of  this  fair  world  the  splendours  manifold, 

Shorn  of  their  lustre,  are  enveloped  all 

In  the  dark  mist  which  now  environs  me. 

In  bygone  times,  each  day  comprised  a  life : 

Hushed  was  each  care,  mute  each  foreboding  voice. 

And,  happily  embarked,  we  drifted  on. 

Without  a  rudder,  o'er  Hfe's  lucid  wave. 

Now,  in  the  darkness  of  the  present  hour, 

Futurity's  vague  terrors  seize  my  soul. 

LEONORA. 

The  future  will  restore  to  thee  thy  friend, 
And  bring  to  thee  new  happiness,  new  joy. 


170  TORQUATO  TASSO 

PRINCESS. 

What  I  possess,  that  would  I  gladly  hold : 

Change  may  divert  the  mind,  but  profits  not. 

With  youthful  longing  I  have  never  joined 

The  motley  throng  who  strive  from  fortune's  urn 

To  snatch  an  object  for  their  craving  hearts. 

I  honoured  him,  and  could  not  choose  but  love  him, 

For  that  with  him  my  life  was  life  indeed, 

Filled  with  a  joy  I  never  knew  before. 

At  first  I  whispered  to  my  heart,  beware ! 

Shrinking  I  shunned,  yet  ever  drew  more  near. 

So  gently  lured,  so  cruelly  chastised ! 

A  pure,  substantial  blessing  ghdes  away ; 

And,  for  the  joy  that  filled  my  yearning  heart, 

Some  demon  substitutes  a  kindred  pain. 

LEONOKA. 

If  friendship's  soothing  words  console  thee  not. 
This  beauteous  world's  calm  power,  and  healing  time, 
Will  imperceptibly  restore  thy  heart. 

PRINCESS. 

Ay,  beauteous  is  the  world ;  and  many  a  joy 

Floats  through  its  wide  dominion  here  and  there. 

Alas !  That  ever,  by  a  single  step. 

As  we  advance,  it  seemeth  to  retreat, 

Our  yearning  souls  along  the  path  of  life 

Thus  step  by  step  alluring  to  the  grave ! 

To  mortal  man  so  seldom  is  it  given 

To  find  what  seemed  his  heaven-appointed  bliss ; 

Alas  !  so  seldom  he  retains  the  good 

Which,  in  auspicious  hour,  his  hand  had  grasped ; 

The  treasure  to  our  heart  that  came  unsought 

Doth  tear  itself  away,  and  we  ourselves 

Yield  that  which  once  with  eagerness  we  seized. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  171 

There  is  a  bliss,  but,  ah  !  we  know  it  not : 
We  know  it,  but  we  know  not  how  to  prize. 


Scene   III. 

LEONORA  {alone). 

The  good  and  noble  heart  my  pity  moves : 

How  sad  a  lot  attends  her  lofty  rank ! 

Alas,  she  loses  !  —  thiukest  thou  to  win  ? 

Is  his  departure  hence  so  requisite  ? 

Or  dost  thou  urge  it  for  thyself  alone,  — 

To  make  the  heart  and  lofty  genius  thine, 

Which  now  thou  sharest,  —  and  unequally  ? 

Is't  honest  so  to  act  ?     What  lackest  thou  yet  ? 

Art  thou  not  rich  enough  ?     Husband  and  son, 

Possessions,  beauty,  rank,  —  all  these  thou  hast, 

And  him  wouldst  have  beside  ?     What  ?     Lovest  thou 

him? 
How  comes  it  else  that  thou  canst  not  endure 
To  live  without  him  ?     This  thou  darest  confess ! 
How  charming  is  it  in  Ms  mind's  clear  depths 
One's  self  to  mirror !     Doth  not  every  joy 
Seem  doubly  great  and  noble,  when  his  song 
Wafts  us  aloft  as  on  the  clouds  of  heaven  ? 
Then  first  thy  lot  is  worthy  to  be  envied ! 
Not  only  hast  thou  what  the  many  crave. 
But  each  one  knoweth  what  thou  art  and  hast ! 
Thy  fatherland  doth  proudly  speak  thy  name : 
This  is  the  pinnacle  of  earthly  bliss. 
Is  Laura's,  then,  the  only  favoured  name 
That  aye  from  gentle  lips  shall  sweetly  flow  ? 
Is  it  Petrarca's  privilege  alone. 
To  deify  an  unknown  beauty's  charms  ? 
Who  is  there  that  with  Tasso  can  compare  ? 
As  now  the  world  exalts  him,  future  time 


172  TORQUATO  TASSO 

With  honour  due  shall  magnify  his  name. 
What  rapture,  in  the  golden  prime  of  life, 
To  feel  his  presence,  and  with  him  to  near, 
With  airy  tread,  the  future's  hidden  realm ! 
Thus  should  old  age  and  time  their  influence  lose, 
And  powerless  be  the  voice  of  rumour  bold, 
Whose  breath  controls  the  billows  of  applause. 
All  that  is  transient  in  his  song  survives ; 
Still  art  thou  young,  still  happy,  when  the  round 
Of  changeful  time  shall  long  have  borne  thee  on. 
Him  thou  must  have,  yet  takest  nought  from  her. 
For  her  affection  to  the  gifted  man 
Doth  take  the  hue  her  other  passions  wear : 
Pale  as  the  tranquil  moon,  whose  feeble  rays 
Dimly  illumine  the  night-wanderer's  path. 
They  gleam,  but  warm  not,  and  diffuse  around 
No  bhssful  rapture,  no  keen  sense  of  joy. 
If  she  but  know  him  happy,  though  afar, 
She  will  rejoice,  as  when  she  saw  him  daily. 
And  then,  'tis  not  my  purpose  from  this  court, 
From  her,  to  banish  both  myself  and  friend. 
I  will  return,  will  bring  him  here  again. 
So  let  it  be  !  —  My  rugged  friend  draws  near : 
We  soon  shall  see  if  we  have  power  to  tame  him. 


Scene   IV.  —  Leonora,  Antonio. 

LEONORA. 

War  and  not  peace  thou  bringest :  it  would  seem 
As  camest  thou  from  a  battle,  from  a  camp. 
Where  violence  bears  sway,  and  force  decides, 
And  not  from  Eome,  where  solemn  policy 
Uplifts  the  hand  to  bless  a  prostrate  world, 
Which  she  beholds  obedient  at  her  feet. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  173 

ANTONIO. 

I  must  admit  the  censure,  my  fair  friend ; 

But  my  apology  lies  close  at  hand. 

'Tis  dangerous  to  be  compelled  so  long 

To  wear  the  show  of  prudence  and  restraint. 

Still  at  our  side  an  evil  genius  lurks, 

And,  with  stern  voice,  demands  from  time  to  time 

A  sacriiBce,  which  I,  alas  !  to-day 

Have  offered,  to  the  peril  of  my  friends. 

LEONORA. 

Thou  hast  so  long  with  strangers  been  concerned, 
And  to  their  humours  hast  conformed  thine  own. 
That,  once  more  with  thy  friends,  thou  dost  their  aims 
Mistake,  and  as  with  strangers  dost  contend. 

ANTONIO. 

Herein,  beloved  friend,  the  danger  lies ! 

With  strangers  we  are  ever  on  our  guard. 

Still  are  we  aiming  with  observance  due. 

To  win  their  favour  which  may  profit  us : 

But,  with  our  friends,  we  throw  off  all  restraint ; 

Reposing  in  their  love,  we  give  the  rein 

To  peevish  humour ;  passion  uncontrolled 

Doth  break  its  bounds ;  and  those  we  hold  most  dear 

Are  thus  amongst  the  first  whom  we  offend. 

LEONORA. 

In  this  calm  utterance  of  a  thoughtful  mind 
I  gladly  recognise  my  friend  again. 

ANTONIO. 

Yes :  it  has  much  annoyed  me,  I  confess, 
That  I  to-day  so  far  forgot  myself. 


174  TORQUATO   TASSO 

But  yet  admit,  that  when  a  valiant  man 

From  irksome  labour  comes,  with  heated  brow, 

Thinking  to  rest  himself  for  further  toil. 

In  the  cool  eve  beneath  the  longed-for  shade. 

And  finds  it,  in  its  length  and  breadth,  possessed 

Already  by  some  idler,  he  may  well 

Feel  something  human  stirring  in  his  breast ! 

LEONORA. 

If  he  is  truly  human,  then,  methinks. 
He  gladly  will  partake  the  shade  with  one 
Who  lightens  toil  and  cheers  the  hour  of  rest 
With  sweet  discourse  and  soothing  melodies. 
Ample,  my  friend,  the  tree  that  casts  the  shade ; 
Nor  either  needs  the  other  dispossess. 

ANTONIO. 

We  will  not  bandy  similes,  fair  friend. 

Full  many  a  treasure  doth  the  world  contain. 

Which  we  to  others  yield  and  with  them  share : 

But  there  exists  one  prize,  which  we  resign 

With  willing  hearts  to  high  desert  alone ; 

Another  that,  without  a  secret  grudge. 

We  share  not  even  with  the  highest  worth  — 

And,  wouldst  thou  touching  these  two  treasures  ask, 

They  are  the  laurel,  and  fair  woman's  smile. 

LEONORA. 

How !  Hath  yon  chaplet  round  our  stripling's  brow 
Given  umbrage  to  the  grave,  experienced  man  ? 
Say,  for  his  toil  divine,  his  lofty  verse, 
Couldst  thou  thyself  a  juster  meed  select  ? 
A  ministration  in  itself  divine, 
That  floateth  in  the  air  in  tuneful  tones. 
Evoking  airy  forms  to  charm  our  souls  —  . 
Such  ministration,  in  expressive  form, 


TORQUATO  TASSO  175 

Or  graceful  symbol,  finds  its  fit  reward. 
As  doth  the  bard  scarce  deign  to  touch  the  earth, 
So  doth  the  laurel  lightly  touch  his  brow. 
His  worshippers,  with  barren  homage,  bring, 
As  tribute  meet,  a  fruitless  branch,  that  thus 
They  may  with  ease  acquit  them  of  their  debt. 
Thou  dost  not  grudge  the  martyr's  effigy,  ^ 
The  golden  radiance  round  the  naked  head ; 
And,  certes,  where  it  rests,  the  laurel  crown 
Is  more  a  sign  of  sorrow  than  of  joy. 

ANTONIO. 

How,  Leonora  !     Would  thy  lovely  hps 
Teach  me  to  scorn  the  world's  poor  vanities  ? 

LEONOKA. 

There  is  no  need,  my  friend,  to  tutor  thee 
To  prize  each  good  according  to  its  worth. 
Yet  it  would  seem  that,  e'en  like  common  men. 
The  sage  philosopher,  from  time  to  time. 
Needs  that  the  treasures  he  is  blest  withal, 
In  their  true  light  before  him  be  displayed. 
Thou,  noble  man,  wilt  not  assert  thy  claim 
To  a  mere  empty  phantom  of  renown. 
The  service  that  doth  bind  thy  prince  to  thee, 
By  means  of  which  thou  dost  attach  thy  friends. 
Is  true,  is  living  service ;  hence  the  meed 
Which  doth  reward  it  must  be  hving  too. 
Thy  laurel  is  thy  sovereign's  confidence, 
Which,  like  a  cherished  burden,  gracefully 
Keposes  on  thy  shoulders,  —  thy  renown. 
Thy  crown  of  glory,  is  the  general  trust. 

ANTONIO. 

Thou  speakest  not  of  woman's  smile,  —  that,  surely, 
Thou  wilt  not  tell  me  is  superfluous. 


176  TORQUATO  TASSO 

LEONORA. 

As  people  take  it.     Thou  dost  lack  it  not ; 

And  lighter  far,  were  ye  deprived  of  it, 

To  thee  would  be  the  loss  than  to  our  friend. 

For,  say  a  woman  were  in  thy  behalf 

To  task  her  skill,  and  in  her  fashion  strive 

To  care  for  thee,  dost  think  she  would  succeed  ? 

With  thee  security  and  order  dwell ; 

And  as  for  others,  for  thyself  thou  carest ; 

Thou  dost  possess  what  friendship  fain  would  give ; 

Whilst  in  our  province  he  requires  our  aid. 

A  thousand  things  he  needs,  which,  to  supply, 

Is  to  a  woman  no  unwelcome  task. 

The  fine-spun  linen,  the  embroidered  vest, 

He  weareth  gladly,  and  endureth  not. 

Upon  his  person,  aught  of  texture  rude. 

Such  as  benefits  the  menial.     For  with  him 

All  must  be  rich  and  noble,  fair  and  good ; 

And  yet,  all  this  to  win,  he  lacks  the  skill, 

Nor,  even  when  possessed,  can  he  retain ; 

Improvident,  he's  still  in  want  of  gold  ; 

Nor  from  a  journey  e'er  returneth  home, 

But  a  third  portion  of  his  goods  is  lost. 

His  valet  plunders  him ;  and  thus,  Antonio, 

The  whole  year  round  one  has  to  care  for  him. 

ANTONIO. 

And  these  same  cares  endear  him  more  and  more. 
Much-favoured  youth,  to  whom  his  very  faults 
As  virtue  count,  to  whom  it  is  allowed 
As  man  to  play  the  boy,  and  who  forsooth 
May  proudly  boast  his  charming  weaknesses  ! 
Thou  must  forgive  me,  my  fair  friend,  if  here 
Some  little  touch  of  bitterness  I  feel. 
Thou  sayest  not  all,  —  sayest  not  how  he  presumes. 
And  proves  himself  far  shrev/der  than  he  seems. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  177 

He  boasts  two  tender  flames !     The  knots  of  love, 
As  fancy  prompts  him,  he  doth  bind  and  loose, 
And  wins  with  such  devices  two  such  hearts ! 
Is't  credible  ? 

LEONOKA. 

Well !  Well !  This  only  proves 
That  'tis  but  friendship  that  inspires  our  hearts. 
And,  e'en  if  we  returned  him  love  for  love, 
Should  we  not  well  reward  his  noble  heart. 
Who,  self-oblivious,  dreams  his  life  away 
In  lovely  visions  to  enchant  his  friends  ? 


ANTONIO. 

Go  on  !     Go  on  !     Spoil  him  yet  more  and  more ; 
Account  his  selfish  vanity  for  love  ; 
Offend  all  other  friends,  with  honest  zeal 
Devoted  to  your  service ;  to  his  pride 
Pay  voluntary  tribute  ;  quite  destroy 
The  beauteous  sphere  of  social  confidence  ! 


LEONORA. 

We  are  not  quite  so  partial  as  thou  thinkest : 

In  many  cases  we  exhort  our  friend. 

We  wish  to  mould  his  mind,  that  he  may  know 

More  happiness  himself,  and  be  a  source 

Of  purer  joy  to  others.     What  in  him 

Doth  merit  blame  is  not  concealed  from  us. 


ANTONIO. 

Yet  much  that's  blamable  in  him  ye  praise. 
I've  known  him  long,  so  easy  'tis  to  know  him : 
Too  proud  he  is  to  wear  the  least  disguise. 
We  see  him  now  retire  into  himself. 


178  TORQUATO  TASSO 

As  if  the  world  were  rounded  in  his  breast ; 

Lost  in  the  working  of  that  inner  world, 

The  outward  universe  he  casts  aside : 

And  his  rapt  spirit,  self-included,  rests. 

Anon,  as  when  a  spark  doth  fire  a  mine, 

Upon  a  touch  of  sorrow  or  of  joy, 

Anger  or  whim,  he  breaks  impetuous  forth. 

Now  he  must  compass  all  things,  all  retain, 

All  his  caprices  must  be  reahsed  ; 

What  should  have  ripened  slowly  through  long  years, 

Must,  in  a  moment,  reach  maturity  ; 

And  obstacles,  which  years  of  patient  toil 

Could  scarce  remove,  be  levelled  in  a  trice. 

He  from  himself  the  impossible  demands. 

That  he  from  others  may  demand  it  too : 

The  extremest  limits  of  existing  things 

His  soul  would  hold  in  contiguity ; 

This  one  man  in  a  million  scarce  achieves, 

And  he  is  not  that  man  :  at  length  he  falls, 

No  whit  the  better,  back  into  himself. 


LEONOEA. 

Others  he  injures  not,  himself  he  injures. 

ANTONIO. 

Yet  others  he  doth  outrage  grievously. 
Canst  thou  deny,  that  in  his  passion's  height. 
Which  o'er  his  spirit  oft  usurps  control. 
The  prince  and  e'en  the  princess  he  contemns, 
And  dares  at  whom  he  may  to  hurl  abuse  ? 
True,  for  a  moment  only  it  endures  ; 
But  then,  the  moment  quickly  comes  again. 
His  tongue,  as  little  as  his  breast,  he  rules. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  179 

LEONORA. 

To  me,  indeed,  it  seems  advisable, 

That  he  should  leave  Ferrara  for  awhile :  — 

Himself  would  benefit,  and  others  too. 

ANTONIO. 

Perchance,  —  perchance,  too,  not.     But  now,  my  friend. 

It  is  not  to  be  thought  of.     For  myself, 

I  will  not  on  my  shoulders  bear  the  blame. 

It  might  appear  as  if  I  drove  him  hence. 

I  drive  him  not.     As  far  as  I'm  concerned, 

He  at  the  court  may  tarry  undisturbed ; 

And  if  with  me  he  will  be  reconciled. 

And  to  my  counsel  if  he  will  give  heed, 

We  may  live  peaceably  enough  together. 

LEONORA. 

Now  thou  dost  hope  to  work  upon  a  mind 
Whicli  lately  thou  didst  look  upon  as  lost. 

ANTONIO. 

We  always  hope  ;  and  still,  in  every  case, 

'Tis  better  far  to  hope  than  to  despair : 

For  who  can  calculate  the  possible  ? 

Our  prince  esteems  him  ;  he  must  stay  with  us  ; 

And,  if  we  strive  to  fashion  him  in  vain, 

He's  not  the  only  one  we  must  endure. 

LEONORA. 

So  free  from  passion  and  from  prejudice 

I  had  not  thought  thee :  —  thy  conversion's  sudden. 

ANTONIO. 

Age  must,  my  friend,  this  one  advantage  claim, 
That,  though  from  error  it  be  not  exempt. 


i8o  TORQUATO  TASSO 

Its  balance  it  recovers  speedily. 

Thou  didst  at  first  essay  to  heal  the  breach 

Between  thy  friend  and  me.     I  urge  it  now. 

Do  what  thou  canst  to  bring  him  to  himself, 

And  to  restore  things  to  their  wonted  calm. 

Myself  will  visit  him,  when  I  shall  know, 

From  thee,  that  he  is  tranquil,  when  thou  thinkest 

My  presence  will  not  aggravate  the  evil. 

But  what  thou  dost,  that  do  within  the  hour : 

Alphonso  will  return  to  town  ere  night ; 

I  must  attend  him  there.     Meanwhile,  farewell. 


Scene  V. 

LEONOKA  {alone). 

For  once,  dear  friend,  we  are  not  of  one  mind 
Our  separate  interests  go  not  hand  in  hand. 
I'll  use  the  time  to  compass  my  design. 
And  will  endeavour  to  win  Tasso.     Quick  ! 


ACT  IV. 

Scene  I.  —  A  Chamber. 

TASSO  {alone). 

Art  thou  awakened  from  a  dream,  and  is 
The  fair  delusion  suddenly  dissolved  ? 
Thee,  in  fruition  of  the  highest  joy, 
Hath  sleep  o'ermastered,  and  now  holds  thy  soul 
Tortured  and  bound  with  heavy  fetters  ?     Ay, 
Thou  art  awake,  and  dreamest  ?     Where  the  hours 
That  round  thy  head  with  flowery  garlands  played  ? 
The  days,  when  unrestrained  thy  yearning  soul 
Freely  explored  the  heaven's  o'erarching  blue  ? 


TORQUATO  TASSO  l8i 

Thou'rt  living  still ;  art  sensible  to  touch ; 

Feelest,  yet  kuowest  not  if  thou  livest  still. 

Say  !  for  mine  own  or  for  another's  fault, 

Am  I,  as  criminal,  thus  captive  here  ? 

Have  I  been  guilty  that  I  suffer  thus  ? 

Is  not  my  fancied  crime  a  merit  rather  ? 

With  kindly  feeling  I  encountered  him. 

Persuaded  by  the  heart's  delusive  hope. 

He  must  be  man  who  bears  a  mortal  form : 

With  open  arms  I  sped  to  his  embrace. 

And  felt  no  human  breast  but  bolts  and  bars. 

Oh,  had  I  but  with  prudent  forecast  weighed. 

How  I  most  fitly  could  receive  the  man, 

Who  from  the  first  inspired  me  with  mistrust ! 

Let  me,  however,  whatso'er  betide, 

For  ever  to  this  one  assurance  cling :  — 

'Twas  she  herself !     She  stood  before  my  view ! 

She  spoke  to  me  !     I  hearkened  to  her  voice ! 

Her  look,  her  tone,  her  words'  sweet  import,  —  these, 

These  are  for  ever  mine ;  nor  time  nor  fate. 

Nor  ruthless  chance,  can  plunder  me  of  these  ! 

And  if  my  spirit  hath  too  swiftly  soared, 

If  all  too  promptly  in  my  breast  I  gave 

Vent  to  the  flame  which  now  consumes  my  heart, 

So  let  it  be,  —  I  never  can  repent. 

E'en  though  my  fortune  were  for  ever  wrecked. 

To  her  devoted,  I  obey  with  joy 

The  hand  that  beckoned  me  to  ruin's  brink. 

So  let  it  be  !     Thus  have  I  proved  myself 

Deserving  of  the  precious  confidence 

That  cheers  my  soul,  —  ay,  cheers  it  in  this  hour 

When  cruel  fate  unlocks  the  sable  gates 

Of  long-protracted  woe.  —  Yes,  now  'tis  done  ! 

For  me  the  sun  of  gracious  favour  sets. 

Never  to  rise  again :  his  glance  benign 

The  prince  withdraws,  and  leaves  me  standing  here, 

Abandoned  on  this  narrow,  gloomy  path. 


1 82  TORQUATO  TASSO 

The  hateful  and  ill-boding  feathered  throng, 
Obscene  attendants  upon  ancient  night, 
Swarm  forth,  and  whirl  round  my  devoted  head. 
Whither,  oh,  whither,  shall  I  bend  my  steps, 
To  shun  the  loathsome  brood  that  round  me  flit, 
And  'scape  the  dread  abyss  that  yawns  before  ? 


Scene  II.  —  Leonora,  Tasso. 

LEONOKA. 

Dear  Tasso,  what  hath  chanced  ?     Hath  passion's  glow, 
Hath  thy  suspicious  temper,  urged  thee  thus  ? 
How  hath  it  happened  ?     We  are  all  amazed. 
Where  now  thy  gentleness,  thy  suavity. 
Thy  rapid  insight,  thy  discernment  just. 
Which  doth  award  to  every  man  his  due  ; 
Thine  even  mind,  which  beareth,  what  to  bear 
The  wise  are  prompt,  the  vain  are  slow,  to  learn ; 
The  prudent  mastery  over  lip  and  tongue  ? 
I  scarcely  recognise  thee  now,  dear  friend. 

TASSO. 

And  what  if  all  were  gone,  —  for  ever  gone  ! 

If  as  a  beggar  thou  shouldst  meet  the  friend 

Whom  just  before  thou  hadst  deemed  opulent ! 

Thou  speakest  truth  :  I  am  no  more  myself. 

Yet  I  am  as  much  so  as  I  was. 

It  seems  a  riddle,  yet  it  is  not  one. 

The  tranquil  moon,  that  cheers  thee  through  the  night, 

Whose  gentle  radiance,  with  resistless  power. 

Allures  thine  eye,  thy  soul,  doth  float  by  day 

An  insignificant  and  pallid  cloud. 

In  the  bright  glare  of  daylight  I  am  lost : 

Ye  know  me  not,  I  scarcely  know  myself. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  183 

LEONORA. 

Such  words,  clear  frieud,  as  thou  hast  uttered  them, 
I  cannot  comprehend.     Explain  thyself. 
Say,  hath  that  rugged  man's  offensive  speech 
So  deeply  wounded  thee,  that  now  thou  dost 
Misjudge  thyself  and  us  ?     Confide  in  me. 

TASSO. 

I'm  not  the  one  offended.     Me  thou  seest 

Thus  punished  here  because  I  gave  offence. 

The  knot  of  many  words  the  sword  would  loose 

With  promptitude  and  ease ;  but  I'm  not  free. 

Thou    art     scarce    aware,  —  nay,    start     not,    gentle 

friend,  — 
'Tis  in  a  prison  thou  dost  meet  me  here. 
Me,  as  a  schoolboy,  doth  the  prince  chastise,  — 
His  right  I  neither  can  nor  will  dispute. 

LEONORA. 

Thou  seemest  moved  beyond  what  reason  warrants. 

TASSO. 

Dost  deem  me,  then,  so  weak,  so  much  a  child. 
That  this  occurrence  could  o'erwhelm  me  thus  ? 
Not  what  has  happened  wounds  me  to  the  quick, 
'Tis  what  it  doth  portend,  that  troubles  me. 
Now  let  my  foes  conspire !     The  field  is  clear. 

LEONORA. 

Many  thou  boldest  falsely  in  suspect : 

Of  this,  dear  frieud,  I  have  convinced  myself. 

Even  Antonio  bears  thee  no  ill  will, 

As  thou  presumest.     The  quarrel  of  to-day  — 


1 84  TORQUATO  TASSO 

TASSO. 

Let  that  be  set  aside  :  I  only  view 

Antonio  as  he  was  and  yet  remains. 

Still  hath  his  formal  prudence  fretted  me, 

His  proud  assumption  of  the  master's  tone. 

Careless  to  learn  whether  the  listener's  mind 

Doth  not  itself  the  better  track  pursue, 

He  tutors  thee  in  much  which  thou  thyself 

More  truly,  deeply  feelest ;  gives  no  heed 

To  what  thou  sayest,  and  perverts  thy  words. 

Misconstrued  thus  by  a  proud  man,  forsooth. 

Who  smiles  superior  from  his  fancied  height ! 

I  am  not  yet  or  old  or  wise  enough 

To  answer  meekly  with  a  patient  smile. 

It  could  not  hold  ;  we  must  at  last  have  broken ; 

The  evil  greater  had  it  been  postponed. 

One  lord  I  recognise,  who  fosters  me : 

Him  I  obey,  but  own  no  master  else. 

In  poesy  and  thought  I  will  be  free. 

In  act  the  world  doth  limit  us  enough. 

LEONORA. 

Yet  often  with  respect  he  speaks  of  thee. 

TASSO. 

Thou  meanest  with  forbearance,  prudent,  subtle. 
'Tis  that  annoys  me ;  for  he  knows  to  use 
Language  so  smooth  and  so  conditional. 
That  seeming  praise  from  him  is  actual  blame : 
And  there  is  nothing  so  offends  my  soul. 
As  words  of  commendation  from  his  lip. 

LEONORA. 

Thou  shouldst  have  heard  but  lately  how  he  spoke 
Of  thee  and  of  the  gift  which  bounteous  nature 


TORQUATO  TASSO  185 

So  largely  hath  conferred  on  thee.     He  feels 
Thy  genius,  Tasso,  and  esteems  thy  worth. 


TASSO. 

Trust  me,  no  selfish  spirit  can  escape 

The  torment  of  base  envy.     Such  a  man 

Pardons  in  others  honour,  rank,  and  wealth ; 

For  thus  he  argues,  these  thou  hast  thyself. 

Or  thou  canst  have  them,  if  thou  persevere. 

Or  if  propitious  fortune  smile  on  thee. 

But  that  which  Nature  can  alone  bestow, 

Which  aye  remaineth  inaccessible 

To  toil  and  patient  effort,  which  nor  gold. 

Nor  yet  the  sword,  nor  stern  persistency, 

Hath  power  to  wrest,  —  that  he  will  ne'er  forgive. 

Not  envy  me  ?     The  pedant  who  aspires 

To  seize  by  force  the  favour  of  the  muse  ? 

Who,  when  he  strings  the  thoughts  of  other  bards. 

Fondly  presumes  he  is  a  bard  himself  ? 

The  prince's  favour  he  would  rather  yield,  — 

Though  that  he  fain  would  limit  to  himself,  — 

Than  the  ^are  gift  which  the  celestial  powers 

Have  granted  to  the  poor,  the  orphaned  youth. 

LEONORA. 

Oh  that  thy  vision  were  as  clear  as  mine ! 

Thou  readest  him  wrongly,  thou  art  deceived  in  him. 

TASSO. 

And  if  I  err,  I  err  with  right  good  will ! 
I  count  him  for  my  most  inveterate  foe, 
And  should  be  inconsolable  were  I 
Compelled  to  think  of  him  more  leniently. 
'Tis  foolish  in  all  cases  to  be  just : 
It  is  to  wrong  one's  self.     Are  other  men 


i86  TORQUATO  TASSO 

Toward  us  so  equitable  ?     No,  ah,  uo  ! 
Man's  nature,  in  its  narrow  scope,  demands 
The  twofold  sentiment  of  love  and  hate. 
Eequires  he  not  the  grateful  interchange 
Of  day  and  night,  of  wakefulness  and  sleep  ? 
No  :  from  henceforward  I  do  hold  this  man 
The  object  of  my  direst  enmity ; 
And  nought  can  snatch  from  me  the  cherished  joy 
Of  thinking  of  him  ever  worse  and  worse. 

LEONORA. 

Dear  friend,  I  see  not,  if  this  feeling  last. 

How  thou  canst  longer  tarry  at  the  court. 

Thou  knowest  the  just  esteem  in  which  he's  held. 

TASSO. 

I'm  fully  sensible,  fair  friend,  how  long 
I  have  already  been  superfluous  here. 

LEONOKA. 

That  thou  art  not,  that  thou  canst  never  be  ! 

Thou  rather  knowest  how  both  prince  and  princess 

Eejoice  to  have  thee  in  their  company. 

The  sister  of  Urbino,  comes  she  not 

As  much  for  thine  as  for  her  kindred's  sake  ? 

They  all  esteem  thee,  recognise  thy  worth, 

And  each  confides  in  thee  without  reserve. 

TASSO. 

O  Leonora !     Call  that  confidence  ! 

Of  state  affairs  has  he  one  single  word. 

One  earnest  word,  vouchsafed  to  speak  with  me  ? 

In  special  cases,  when  he  has  advised. 

Both  with  the  princess,  and  with  others  too, 

To  me,  though  present,  uo  appeal  was  made. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  187 


The  cry  was  ever  then,  Antonio  comes ! 
Consult  Antonio  !     To  Antonio  write  ! 


LEONOKA. 

Thanks  here,  methinks,  were  juster  than  complaint. 
Thus  in  unchallenged  freedom  leaving  thee, 
He  to  thy  genius  fitting  homage  pays. 

TASSO. 

He  lets  me  rest,  because  he  deems  me  useless. 

LEONOKA. 

Thou  art  not  useless,  e'en  because  thou  restest. 
Care  and  vexation,  hke  a  child  beloved, 
Thou  still  dost  cherish,  Tasso,  in  thy  breast. 
It  oft  has  struck  me,  and  the  more  I  think, 
The  more  convinced  I  feel,  on  this  fair  soil. 
Where  fate  auspicious  seemed  to  plant  thy  lot. 
Thou  dost  not  flourish.  —  May  I  speak,  my  friend  ? 
May  I  advise  thee  ?  —  Thou  shouldst  hence  depart. 

TASSO. 

Spare  not  thy  patient,  gentle  leech !     Extend 

The  draught  medicinal,  nor  think  thereon 

If  it  is  bitter.  —  This  consider  well. 

Kind,  prudent  friend,  if  he  can  yet  be  cured ! 

I  see  it  all  myself,  'tis  over  now ! 

Him  I  indeed  could  pardon,  he  not  me ; 

He's  needful  to  them,  I,  alas !  am  not. 

And  he  has  prudence,  I,  alas !  have  none. 

He  worketh  to  my  injury,  and  I 

Cannot  and  will  not  counterwork.     My  friends 

Leave  things  to  chance ;  they  see  things  otherwise ; 

They  scarcely  struggle,  who  should  stoutly  fight. 


i88  TORQUATO  TASSO 

Thou  thinkest  I  should  depart,  I  think  so  too ;  — 
Then,  farewell,  friends  !  —  This,  too,  I  must  endure. 
You're  parted  from  me.  —  Oh,  to  me  be  given 
The  courage  and  the  strength  to  part  from  you ! 


LEONORA. 

Seen  from  a  distance  things  show  less  confused, 
That  in  the  present  serve  but  to  perplex. 
Perchance,  when  absent,  thou  wilt  recognise 
The  love  which  here  environs  thee,  wilt  learn 
The  worth  of  friends,  and  feel  how  the  wide  world 
Cannot  replace  those  dearest  to  the  heart. 


TASSO. 

I  shall  experience  this !     Alas  !  I've  known 
The  world  from  early  youth,  how,  pressing  on, 
She  lightly  leaves  us,  helpless  and  forlorn. 
Like  sun  and  moon  and  other  deities. 


LEONORA. 

Dear  friend,  if  thou  wilt  lend  an  ear  to  me, 
This  sad  experience  thou  wilt  not  repeat. 
If  I  may  counsel  thee,  thou  wilt  at  first 
Eepair  to  Florence,  —  there  thou'lt  find  a  friend 
Will  cherish  thee  most  kindly,  —  'tis  myself ! 
Thither  I  travel  soon  to  meet  my  lord ; 
And  there  is  nothing  would  afford  us,  Tasso, 
A  richer  pleasure  than  thy  company. 
I  need  not  tell  thee,  for  thyself  dost  know, 
How  noble  is  the  prince  who  ruleth  there ; 
What  men,  what  women  too,  our  favoured  town 
Doth  cherish  in  her  bosom.  —  Thou  art  silent ! 
Consider  well  my  counsel,  and  resolve  ! 


TORQUATO  TASSO  189 


TASSO. 


Full  of  sweet  promise  are  thy  words,  dear  friend, 
And  in  accordance  with  my  secret  wish. 
But  'tis  too  sudden :  let  me  pause  awhile,  — 
Let  me  consider !     I  will  soon  resolve  ! 


LEONORA. 


I  leave  thee  now,  and  with  the  fairest  hope 
For  thee,  for  us,  and  also  for  this  house. 
Only  reflect,  and  weigh  the  matter  well : 
Thou  scarcely  wilt  devise  a  better  plan. 

TASSO. 

Yet  one  thing  more,  tell  me,  beloved  friend. 
How  is  the  princess  minded  toward  me  ?     Speak  ! 
Was  she  displeased  with  me  ?     Give  me  her  words.  — 
Hath  she  severely  blamed  me  ?     Tell  me  all ! 

LEONORA. 

She  knows  thee  well,  and  therefore  has  excused  thee. 

TASSO. 

Say,  have  I  lost  her  friendship  ?     Flatter  not, 

LEONORA. 

A  woman's  friendship  is  not  lightly  lost. 

TASSO. 

Without  reluctance  will  she  let  me  go  ? 

LEONORA. 

If  'twill  promote  thy  welfare,  certainly. 


190  TORQUATO  TASSO 

TASSO. 

Shall  I  not  lose  the  favour  of  the  prince  ? 

LEONORA. 

His  nature's  noble :  thou  mayest  trust  in  him. 

TASSO. 

And  shall  we  leave  the  princess  all  alone  ? 
Thou  leavest  her ;  and  though  perhaps  not  much, 
I  know  full  well  that  I  was  something,  to  her. 

LEONORA. 

An  absent  friend  is  sweet  society, 

When  of  his  welfare  we  are  well  assured. 

My  plan  succeeds,  I  see  thee  happy  now : 

Thou  wilt  not  hence  depart  unsatisfied. 

The  prince  commands,  —  Antonio  seeks  thee,  Tasso. 

He  censures  in  himself  the  bitterness 

With  which  he  wounded  thee.     I  do  entreat, 

Receive  him  with  forbearance  when  he  comes. 

TASSO. 

I  have  no  cause  to  shun  the  interview. 


LEONORA. 

And  oh  dear  friend,  that  Heaven  would  grant  me  this 

To  make  it  clear  to  thee  ere  thou  departest, 

That  in  thy  fatherland  there  is  not  one 

Pursues  thee,  hates,  or  covertly  molests. 

Thou  art  deceived ;  and  as  for  others'  pleasure 

Wont  art  thou  still  to  poetise,  alas  ! 

Thou  in  this  case  dost  weave  a  cunning  web 


TORQUATO  TASSO  191 

To  blind  thyself,  the  which  to  rend  asunder 

I'll  do  mine  utmost,  that  with  vision  clear 

Thou  mayest  pursue  life's  glad  career  untrammelled. 

Farewell !  I  hope  for  happy  words  ere  long. 


Scene  III, 

TASSO  {alone). 

I  must  believe,  forsooth,  that  no  one  hates  me,  — 

That  no  one  persecutes,  that  all  the  guile. 

The  subtle  malice,  that  environs  me, 

Is  but  the  coinage  of  my  own  sick  brain ! 

I  must  acknowledge  that  myself  am  wrong ! 

And  am  unjust  to  many,  who  in  sooth 

Deserve  it  not !     What !     This  confess  e'en  now. 

When  clearly,  in  the  open  face  of  day, 

Appear  their  malice  and  my  rectitude ! 

I  ought  to  feel  most  deeply,  how  the  prince 

To  me  with  generous  breast  his  grace  imparts, 

And  in  rich  measure  loads  me  with  his  gifts. 

E'en  at  the  time  when  he  is  weak  enough 

To  let  his  eyes  be  blinded  by  my  foes. 

Yea,  doubtless,  and  his  hand  be  fettered  too ! 

His  own  delusion  he  cannot  perceive ; 

That  they  deluders  are,  I  may  not  prove ; 

And  that  unchecked  he  may  delude  himself, 

And  they  delude  him  whensoe'er  they  please, 

I  stiU  must  hold  my  peace,  —  must  yield  forsooth  ! 

And  who  thus  counsels  me  ?     With  prudent  zeal 

And  thoughtful  kindness,  who  doth  urge  me  thus  ? 

Leonora's  self,  Leonora  Santivale. 

Considerate  friend  !     Ha,  ha,  I  know  thee  now ! 

Oh,  wherefore  did  I  ever  trust  her  words  ? 

She  was  not  honest  when  she  uttered  forth 


192  TORQUATO  TASSO 

To  me  her  favour  and  her  tenderness 

With  honeyed  words  !     No :  hers  hath  ever  been 

And  still  remains  a  crafty  heart :  she  turns 

With  cautious,  prudent  step  where  fortune  smiles. 

How  often  have  I  willingly  deceived 

Myself  in  her !     And  yet  it  was  in  truth 

But  mine  own  vanity  deluded  me ! 

I  knew  her,  but,  self-fiattered,  argued  thus,  — 

True,  she  is  so  toward  others  ;  but  toward  thee 

Her  heart  is  honest,  her  intention  pure. 

Mine  eyes  are  open  now,  —  alas,  too  late  ! 

I  was  in  favour  —  on  the  favourite 

How  tenderly  she  fawned  !     I'm  fallen  now, 

And  she,  like  fortune,  turns  her  back  on  me. 

Yes,  now  she  comes,  the  agent  of  my  foe : 

She  glides  along,  the  little  artful  snake, 

Hissing,  with  slippery  tongue,  her  magic  tones. 

How  gracious  seemed  she  !     More  than  ever  gracious ! 

How  soothingly  her  honeyed  accents  flowed ! 

Yet  could  the  flattery  not  long  conceal 

The  false  intention :  on  her  brow  appeared 

Too  legibly  inscribed  the  opposite 

Of  all  she  uttered.      Quick  I  am  to  feel 

Whene'er  the  entrance  to  my  heart  is  sought 

With  a  dishonest  purpose.     I  should  hence ! 

Should  hie  to  Florence  with  convenient  speed. 

And  why  to  Florence  ?     Ah,  I  see  it  all ! 
There  reigns  the  rising  house  of  Medici, 
True,  with  Ferrara  not  in  open  feud ; 
But  secret  rivalry,  with  chilling  hand. 
Doth  hold  asunder  e'en  the  noblest  hearts. 
If  from  those  noble  princes  I  should  reap 
Distinguished  marks  of  favour,  as  indeed 
I  may  anticipate,  the  courtier  here 


TORQUATO  TASSO  193 

Would  soon  impugn  my  gratitude  and  truth, 
And  would,  with  easy  wile,  achieve  his  purpose. 

Yes,  I  will  go,  but  not  as  ye  desire : 
I  will  away,  and  farther  than  ye  think. 

Why  should  I  linger  ?     Who  detains  me  here  ? 

Too  well  I  understood  each  several  word 

That  I  drew  forth  from  Leonora's  lips ! 

With  anxious  heed  each  syllable  I  caught ; 

And  now  I  fully  know  the  princess'  mind,  — 

That,  too,  is  certain  :  let  me  not  despair  ! 

"  Without  reluctance  she  will  let  me  go 

If  it  promote  my  welfare."     Would  her  heart 

Were  mastered  by  a  passion  that  would  whelm 

Me  and  my  welfare !     Oh,  more  welcome  far 

The  grasp  of  death  than  of  the  frigid  hand 

That  passively  resigns  me  !  —  Yes,  I  go  !  — 

Now  be  upon  thy  guard,  and  let  no  show 

Of  love  or  friendship  bind  thee  !     None  hath  power 

Now  to  deceive  thee,  if  not  self-deceived. 


Scene  IV.  —  Antonio,  Tasso. 

ANTONIO. 

Tasso,  I  come  to  say  a  word  to  thee. 

If  thou'rt  disposed  to  hear  me  tranquilly. 

TASSO. 

I  am  denied,  thou  knowest,  the  power  to  act : 
It  well  becomes  me  to  attend  and  listen. 

ANTONIO. 

Tranquil  I  find  thee,  as  I  hoped  to  find, 
And  speak  to  thee  in  all  sincerity. 


194  TORQUATO  TASSO 

But  in  the  prince's  name  I  first  dissolve 
Tiie  slender  band  that  seemed  to  fetter  thee. 


TASSO. 

Caprice  dissolves  it,  as  caprice  imposed : 
I  yield,  and  no  judicial  sentence  claim. 

ANTONIO. 

Next,  Tasso,  on  my  own  behalf  I  speak. 
I  have,  it  seems,  more  deeply  wounded  thee, 
Than  I  —  myself  by  divers  passions  moved  — 
Was  conscious  of.     But  no  insulting  word 
Hath  from  my  lip  incautiously  escaped. 
Nought  hast  thou,  as  a  noble,  to  avenge. 
And,  as  a  man,  wilt  not  refuse  thy  pardon. 

TASSO. 

Whether  contempt  or  insult  galls  the  most, 
I  will  not  now  determine :  that  doth  pierce 
The  inmost  marrow,  this  but  frets  the  skin. 
The  shaft  of  insult  back  returns  to  him 
Who  winged  the  missile,  and  the  practised  sword 
Soon  reconciles  the  opinion  of  the  world  — 
A  wounded  heart  is  difficult  to  cure. 

ANTONIO. 

'Tis  now  my  turn  to  press  thee  urgently : 
Oh,  step  not  back,  yield  to  mine  earnest  wish, 
The  prince's  vsdsh,  who  sends  me  unto  thee  ! 

TASSO. 

I  know  the  claims  of  duty,  and  submit. 
Be  it,  as  far  as  possible,  forgiven  ! 
The  poets  tell  us  of  a  magic  spear, 


TORQUATO  TASSO  195 

Which  could  a  wound,  inflicted  by  itself, 
Through  friendly  contact,  once  again  restore. 
The  human  tongue  hath  also  such  a  power : 
I  will  not  peevishly  resist  it  now. 

ANTONIO. 

I  thank  thee,  and  desire  that  thou  at  once 
Wouldst  put  my  wish  to  serve  thee  to  the  proof. 
Then  say  if  I  in  aught  can  pleasure  thee ;  — 
Most  gladly  will  I  do  so :  therefore  speak. 

TASSO. 

Thine  offer  tallies  with  my  secret  wish : 
But  now  thou  hast  restored  my  liberty, 
Procure  for  me,  I  pray,  the  use  of  it. 

ANTONIO. 

What  meanest  thou  ?     More  plainly  state  thy  wish. 

TASSO. 

My  poem,  as  thou  knowest,  I  have  ended : 
Yet  much  it  wants  to  render  it  complete. 
To-day  I  gave  it  to  the  prince,  and  hoped 
At  the  same  time  to  proffer  my  request. 
Full  many  of  my  friends  I  now  should  find 
In  Eome  assembled  ;  they  have  writ  to  me 
Their  judgments  touching  divers  passages ; 
By  many  I  could  profit ;  others  still 
Eequire  consideration ;  and  some  lines 
I  should  be  loath  to  alter,  till  at  least 
My  judgment  has  been  better  satisfied. 
All  this  by  letter  cannot  be  arranged. 
While  intercourse  would  soon  untie  the  knots. 
I  thought  myself  to  ask  the  prince  to-day ; 


196  TORQUATO  TASSO 

The  occasion  failed :  I  dare  not  venture  now, 
And  must  for  this  permission  trust  to  thee. 


ANTONIO. 

It  seems  imprudent  to  absent  thyself 

Just  at  the  moment  when  thy  finished  work 

Commends  thee  to  the  princess  and  the  prince. 

A  day  of  favour  is  a  day  of  harvest : 

We  should  be  busy  when  the  corn  is  ripe. 

Nought  wilt  thou  win  if  thou  departest  hence, 

Perchance  thou'lt  lose  what  thou  hast  won  already. 

Presence  is  still  a  powerful  deity,  — 

Learn  to  respect  her  influence,  —  tarry  here  ! 

TASSO. 

I  nothing  have  to  fear :  Alphonse  is  noble, 

Such  hath  he  always  proved  himself  toward  me ;  — 

To  his  heart  only  will  I  owe  the  boon 

Which  now  I  crave.     By  no  mean,  servile  arts 

Will  I  obtain  his  favour.     Nought  will  I  receive 

Which  it  can  e'er  repent  him  to  have  given. 

ANTONIO. 

Then,  do  not  now  solicit  leave  to  go : 
He  will  not  willingly  accord  thy  suit ; 
And  much  I  fear  he  will  reject  it,  Tasso. 

TASSO. 

Duly  entreated,  he  will  gi-ant  my  prayer : 
Thou  hast  the  power  to  move  him,  if  thou  wilt. 

ANTONIO. 

But  what  sufficient  reason  shall  I  urge  ? 


TORQUATO  TASSO  197 

TASSO. 

Let  every  stanza  of  my  poem  speak ! 

The  scope  was  lofty  that  I  aimed  to  reach, 

Though  to  my  genius  inaccessible. 

Labour  and  strenuous  effort  have  not  failed ; 

The  cheerful  stroll  of  many  a  lovely  day, 

The  sUent  watch  of  many  a  solemn  night, 

Have  to  this  pious  lay  been  consecrate. 

With  modest  daring  I  aspired  too  near 

The  mighty  masters  of  the  olden  time ; 

With  lofty  courage  planned  to  rouse  our  age 

From  lengthened  sleep,  to  deeds  of  high  emprise ; 

Then,  with  a  Christian  host,  I  hoped  to  share 

The  toil  and  glory  of  a  holy  war. 

And,  that  my  song  may  rouse  the  noblest  men. 

It  must  be  worthy  of  its  lofty  aim. 

What  worth  it  hath  is  to  Alphonso  due : 

For  its  completion  I  would  owe  him  thanks. 

ANTONIO. 

The  prince  himself  is  here,  with  other  men. 
Able  as  those  of  Kome  to  be  thy  guides. 
Here  is  thy  station,  here  complete  thy  work : 
Then  haste  to  Eome  to  carry  out  thy  plan. 

TASSO. 

Alphonso  first  inspired  my  muse,  and  he 

Will  be  the  last  to  counsel  me.     Thy  judgment, 

The  judgment  also  of  the  learned  men 

Assembled  at  our  court,  I  highly  value : 

Ye  shall  determine  when  my  friends  at  Rome 

Fail  to  produce  conviction  in  my  mind. 

But  them  I  must  consult.     Gonzaga  there 

Hath  summoned  a  tribunal  before  which 

I  must  present  myself.     I  scarce  can  wait. 

Flaminio  de'  Nobili,  Angelio 


igS  TORQUATO  TASSO 

Da  Barga,  Antoniano,  and  Speron  Speroni ! 
To  thee  they  must  be  known.  —  What  names  they  are ! 
They  in  my  soul,  to  worth  which  gladly  yields, 
Inspire  at  once  both  confidence  and  fear. 


ANTONIO. 

Self-occupied,  thou  thinkest  not  of  the  prince 
I  tell  thee  that  he  will  not  let  thee  go. 
And,  if  he  does,  'twill  be  against  his  wish. 
Thou  wilt  not  surely  urge  what  he  to  thee 
Unwilhngly  would  grant.     And  shall  I  here 
Still  mediate,  what  I  cannot  approve  ? 


TASSO. 

Dost  thou  refuse  me,  then,  my  first  request 
When  I  would  put  thy  friendship  to  the  proof  ? 


ANTONIO. 

Timely  denial  is  the  surest  test 

Of  genuine  friendship :  love  doth  oft  confer 

A  baneful  good,  when  it  consults  the  wish, 

And  not  the  happiness,  of  him  who  sues. 

Thou,  in  this  moment,  dost  appear  to  me 

To  overprize  the  object  of  thy  wish, 

Which,  on  the  instant,  thou  wouldst  have  fulfilled. 

The  erring  man  would  oft  by  vehemence 

Compensate  what  he  lacks  in  truth  and  power : 

Duty  enjoins  me  now,  with  all  my  might, 

To  check  the  rashness  that  would  lead  thee  wrong. 


TASSO. 

I  long  have  known  this  tyranny  of  friendship, 
Which  of  all  tyrannies  appears  to  me 


TORQUATO  TASSO  199 

The  least  endurable.     Because,  forsooth, 
Our  judgments  differ,  thine  must  needs  be  right : 
I  gladly  own  that  thou  dost  wish  my  welfare, 
Eequire  me  not  to  seek  it  in  thy  way. 

ANTONIO. 

And  wouldst  thou  have  me,  Tasso,  in  cold  blood, 
With  full  and  clear  conviction,  injure  thee  ? 

TASSO. 

I  will  at  once  absolve  thee  from  this  care ! 
Thou  hast  no  power  to  hold  me  with  thy  words. 
Thou  hast  declared  me  free :  these  doors  which  lead 
Straight  to  the  prince,  stand  open  to  me  now. 
The  choice  I  leave  to  thee.     Or  thou  or  I ! 
The  prince  goes  forth,  no  time  is  to  be  lost : 
Determine  promptly  !     Dost  thou  still  refuse, 
I  go  myself,  let  come  of  it  what  will. 

ANTONIO. 

A  little  respite  grant  me ;  not  to-day : 
Wait,  I  beseech  thee,  till  the  prince  returns ! 

TASSO. 

If  it  were  possible,  this  very  hour ! 

My  soles  are  scorched  upon  this  marble  floor, 

Nor  can  my  spirit  rest  until  the  dust 

Of  the  free  highway  shrouds  the  fugitive. 

I  do  not  entreat  thee !     How  unfit  I  am 

Now  to  appear  before  the  prince  thou  seest ; 

And  thou  must  see  —  how  can  I  hide  from  thee  — 

That  I'm  no  longer  master  of  myself ; 

No  power  on  earth  can  sway  my  energies ; 

Fetters  alone  can  hold  me  in  control ! 


2  00  TORQUATO  TASSO 

No  tyrant  is  the  prince,  he  spake  me  free. 
Once  to  his  words  how  gladly  I  gave  ear ! 
To-day  to  hearken  is  impossible. 
Oh,  let  me  have  my  freedom  but  to-day, 
That  my  vexed  spirit  may  regain  its  peace ! 
Back  to  my  duty  I  will  soon  return. 


ANTONIO. 

Thou  makest  me  dubious.     How  shall  I  resolve  ? 
That  error  is  contagious,  I  perceive. 

TASSO. 

If  thy  professions  I'm  to  count  sincere. 
Perform  what  I  desire,  as  well  as  thou  canst. 
Then  will  the  prince  release  me,  and  I  lose 
Neither  his  favour  nor  his  gracious  aid. 
For  that  I'll  thank  thee,  —  ay,  with  cordial  thanks. 
But  if  thy  bosom  bear  an  ancient  grudge, 
Wouldst  thou  for  ever  banish  me  this  court. 
For  ever  wouldst  thou  mar  my  destiny. 
And  drive  me  friendless  forth  into  the  world. 
Then  hold  thy  purpose  and  resist  my  prayer ! 

ANTONIO. 

0  Tasso  !  —  for  I'm  doomed  to  injure  thee,  — 

1  choose  the  way  which  thou  thyself  dost  choose : 
The  issue  will  determine  who  doth  err ! 

Thou  wilt  away  !     I  warn  thee  ere  thou  goest : 
Scarce  shalt  thou  turn  thy  back  upon  this  house. 
Ere  thou  shalt  yearn  in  spirit  to  return, 
While  wilful  humour  still  shall  urge  thee  on. 
Sorrow,  distraction,  and  desponding  gloom 
In  Eome  await  thee.     There  as  well  as  here 
Thou'lt  miss  thine  aim.     But  this  I  do  not  say 


TORQUATO  TASSO  ,201 

To  counsel  thee :  alas  !  I  but  predict 

What  soon  will  liappen,  and  invite  thee,  Tasso, 

In  the  worst  exigence  to  trust  to  me. 

I  now,  at  thy  desire,  will  seek  the  prince. 


Scene  V. 

TASSO  {alone). 

Ay,  go,  and  in  the  fond  assurance  go, 

That  thou  hast  power  to  bend  me  to  thy  will. 

I  learn  dissimulation,  for  thou  art 

An  able  master,  and  I  prompt  to  learn. 

Thus  life  full  oft  compels  us  to  appear, 

Yea,  e'en  to  be,  like  those  whom  in  our  hearts 

We  haughtily  despise.     How  clearly  now 

I  see  the  subtle  web  of  court  intrigue ! 

Antonio  desires  to  drive  me  hence. 

Yet  would  not  seem  to  drive  me.     He  doth  play 

The  kind,  considerate  friend,  that  I  may  seem 

Incapable  and  weak ;  installs  himself 

My  guardian  too,  degrading  to  a  child, 

Him  whom  he  could  not  bend  to  be  a  slave. 

With  clouds  of  error  thus  he  darkens  truth. 

And  blinds  ahke  the  princess  and  the  prince. 

They  should  indeed  retain  me,  so  he  counsels. 

For  with  fair  talents  Nature  has  endowed  me ; 

Although,  alas  !  she  has  accompanied 

Her  lofty  gifts  with  many  weaknesses, 

With  a  foreboding  spirit,  boundless  pride, 

And  sensibihty  too  exquisite. 

It  cannot  now  be  otherwise,  since  Fate, 

In  her  caprice,  has  fashioned  such  a  man : 

We  must  consent  to  take  him  as  he  is. 

Be  patient,  bear  with  him,  and  then,  perchance, 


202  TORQUATO  TASSO 

On  days  auspicious,  as  an  unsought  good, 
Find  pleasure  in  his  joy-diffusing  gift ; 
While  for  the  rest,  why,  e'en  as  he  was  born. 
He  must  have  hcense  both  to  live  and  die. 

Where  now  Alphonso's  firm  and  constant  mind  ? 

The  man  who  braves  his  foe,  who  shields  his  friend. 

In  him  who  treats  me  thus  can  I  discover  ? 

Now  I  discern  the  measure  of  my  woe ! 

This  is  my  destiny,  —  toward  me  alone 

All  change  their  nature,  —  ay,  the  very  men 

Who  are  with  others  steadfast,  firm,  and  true, 

In  one  brief  moment,  for  an  idle  breath, 

Swerve  hghtly  from  their  constant  quality. 

Has  not  this  man's  arrival  here,  alone. 

And  in  a  single  hour,  my  fortune  marred  ? 

Has  he  not,  even  to  its  very  base. 

Laid  low  the  structure  of  my  happiness  ? 

This,  too,  must  I  endure,  —  even  to-day  ! 

Yea,  as  before  all  pressed  around  me,  now 

I  am  by  all  abandoned  ;  as  before 

Each  strove  to  seize,  to  win  me  for  himself, 

All  thrust  me  from  them,  and  avoid  me  now. 

And  wherefore  ?     My  desert,  and  all  the  love 

Wherewith  I  was  so  bounteously  endowed. 

Does  he  alone  in  equal  balance  weigh  ? 

Yes,  all  forsake  me  now.     Thou  too !     Thou  too  ! 

Beloved  princess,  thou,  too,  leavest  me ! 

Hath  she,  to  cheer  me  in  this  dismal  hour, 

A  single  token  of  her  favour  sent  ? 

Have  I  deserved  this  from  her  ?  —  Thou  poor  heart, 

Whose  very  nature  was  to  honour  her  !  — 

How,  when  her  gentle  accents  touched  mine  ear, 

Feelings  unutterable  thrilled  my  breast  ! 

WTien  she  appeared,  a  more  ethereal  light 


TORQUATO  TASSO  203 

Outshone  the  light  of  day.     Her  eyes,  her  Hps, 

Drew  me  resistlessly  :  my' very  kuees 

Trembled  beneath  me ;  and  my  sphit's  strength 

Was  all  required  to  hold  myself  erect, 

And  curb  the  strong  desire  to  throw  myself 

Prostrate  before  her.     Scarcely  could  I  quell 

The  giddy  rapture.     Be  thou  firm,  my  heart ! 

No  cloud  obscure  thee,  thou  clear  mind  !     She  too  ! 

Dare  I  pronounce  what  yet  I  scarce  believe  ? 

I  must  believe,  yet  dread  to  utter  it.  . 

She  too  !     She  too  !     Think  not  the  slightest  blame, 

Only  conceal  it  not.     She  too  !     She  too  ! 

Alas  !     This  word,  whose  truth  I  ought  to  doubt. 

Long  as  a  breath  of  faith  survived  in  me,  — 

This  word,  like  fate's  decree,  doth  now  at  last 

Engrave  itself  upon  the  brazen  rim 

That  rounds  the  full-scrolled  tablet  of  my  woe. 

Now  first  mine  enemies  are  stroug  indeed  : 

For  ever  now  I  am  of  strength  bereft. 

How  shall  I  combat  when  she  stands  opposed 

Amidst  the  hostile  army  ?     How  endure 

If  she  no  more  reach  forth  her  hand  to  me  ? 

If  her  kind  glance  the  supphant  meet  no  more  ? 

Ay,  thou  hast  dared  to  think,  to  utter  it, 

And,  ere  thou  couldst  have  feared,  —  behold,  'tis  true  ! 

And  now,  ere  yet  despair,  with  brazen  talons. 

Doth  rend  asunder  thy  bewildered  brain, 

Lament  thy  bitter  doom,  and  utter  forth 

The  unavailing  cry,  She  too  !     She  too  1 


204  TORQUATO  TASSO 

ACT  V. 

Scene  I.  —  A  Garden.  —  Alphonso,  Antonio. 

ANTONIO. 

Obedient  to  thy  wish,  I  went  to  Tasso 
A  second  time :  I  come  from  him  but  now. 
I  sought  to  move  him,  yea,  I  strongly  urged, 
But  from  his  fixed  resolve  he  swerveth  not ; 
He  earnestly  entreats,  that  for  a  time 
Thou  wouldst  permit  him  to  repair  to  Rome. 

ALPHONSO. 

His  purpose  much  annoys  me,  I  confess  :  — 

I  rather  tell  thee  my  vexation  now, 

Than  let  it  strengthen,  smothered  in  my  breast. 

He  fain  would  travel,  good  !     I  hold  him  not. 

He  will  depart,  he  will  to  Rome  :  so  be  it ' 

Let  not  the  crafty  Medici,  nor  yet 

Scipio  Gonzaga,  wrest  him  from  me,  though  ! 

'Tis  this  hath  made  our  Italy  so  great, 

That  rival  neighbours  zealously  contend 

To  foster  and  employ  the  ablest  men. 

Like  chief  without  an  army,  shows  a  prince 

Who  round  him  gathers  not  superior  minds ; 

And  who  the  voice  of  Poesy  disdains 

Is  a  barbarian,  be  he  who  he  may. 

Tasso  I  found,  I  chose  him  for  myself, 

I  nuijiber  him  with  pride  among  my  train  ; 

And,  having  done  so  much  for  him  already, 

I  should  be  loath  to  lose  him  without  cause. 

ANTONIO. 

I  feel  embarrassed,  prince  ;  for  in  thy  sight 
I  bear  the  blame  of  what  to-day  befell : 


TORQUATO  TASSO  205 

That  I  was  in  the  wrong,  I  frankly  own, 
And  look  for  pardon  to  thy  clemency  ; 
But  I  were  inconsolable  couldst  thou. 
E'en  for  a  moment,  doubt  my  honest  zeal 
In  seeking  to  appease  him.     Speak  to  me 
With  gracious  look,  that  so  I  may  regain 
My  self-reliance  and  my  wonted  calm. 

ALPHONSO. 

Feel  no  disquietude,  Antonio  ;  — 
In  no  wise  do  I  count  the  blame  as  thine  : 
Too  well  I  know  the  temper  of  the  man, 
Know  all  too  well  what  I  have  done  for  him. 
How  often  I  have  spared  him,  and  how  oft 
Toward  him  I  have  overlooked  my  rightful  claims. 
O'er  many  things  we  gain  the  mastery, 
But  stern  necessity  and  lengthened  time 
Scarce  give  a  man  dominion  o'er  himself. 


ANTONIO. 

When  other  men  toil  in  behalf  of  one, 
'Tis  fit  this  one  with  dihgence  inquire 
How  he  may  profit  others  in  return. 
He  who  hath  fashioned  his  own  mind  so  well. 
Who  hath  aspired  to  make  each  several  science, 
And  the  whole  range  of  human  lore,  his  own, 
Is  he  not  doubly  bound  to  rule  himself  ? 
Yet  doth  he  ever  give  it  e'en  a  thought  ? 


ALPHONSO. 

Continued  rest  is  not  ordained  for  man. 
Still,  when  we  purpose  to  enjoy  ourselves, 
To  try  our  valour,  fortune  sends  a  foe ; 
To  try  our  equanimity,  a  friend. 


2o6  TORQUATO  TASSO 

ANTONIO. 

Does  Tasso  e'en  fulfil  man's  primal  duty, 

To  regulate  his  appetite,  in  which 

He  is  not,  like  the  brute,  restrained  by  nature  ? 

Does  he  not  rather,  like  a  child,  indulge 

In  all  that  charms  and  gratifies  his  taste  ? 

When  has  he  mingled  water  with  his  wine  ? 

Comfits  and  condiments,  and  potent  drinks. 

One  with  another  still  he  swallows  down. 

And  then  complains  of  his  bewildered  brain, 

His  hasty  temper,  and  his  fevered  blood, 

Eailing  at  nature  and  at  destiny. 

How  oft  I've  heard  him  in  a  bitter  style 

With  childish  folly  argue  with  his  leech. 

'Twould  raise  a  laugh,  if  aught  were  laughable 

Which  teases  others  and  torments  one's  self. 

"  Oh,  this  is  torture  !  "  anxiously  he  cries. 

Then,  in  splenetic  mood,  "  Why  boast  your  art  ? 

Prescribe  a  cure  ! "  —  "  Good  !  "  then  exclaims  the  leech, 

"  Abstain  from  this  or  that."  —  "  That  can  I  not."  — 

"  Then,  take  this  potion."  —  "  No  :  it  nauseates  me. 

The  taste  is  horrid,  nature  doth  rebel."  — 

"  Well,  then,  drink  water."  —  "  Water  !  never  more  ! 

Like  hydrophobia  is  my  dread  of  it."  — 

"  Then,  your  disease  is  hopeless."  —  "  Why,  I  pray  ?  "  — 

"  One  evil  symptom  will  succeed  another ; 

And,  though  your  ailment  should  not  fatal  prove, 

'Twill  daily  more  torment  you."  —  "  Fine,  indeed  ! 

Then,  wherefore  play  the  leech  ?     You  know  my  case : 

You  should  devise  a  remedy,  and  one 

That's  palatable  too,  that  I  may  not 

First  suffer  pain  before  relieved  from  it." 

I  see  thee  smile,  my  prince :  'tis  but  the  truth ; 

Doubtless  thyself  hast  heard  it  from  his  lips. 

ALPHONSO. 

Oft  I  have  heard,  and  have  as  oft  excused. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  207 

ANTONIO. 

It  is  most  certain,  an  intemperate  life, 
As  it  engenders  wild,  distempered  dreams, 
At  length  doth  make  us  dream  in  open  day. 
What's  his  suspicion  but  a  troubled  dream  ? 
He  thinks  himself  environed  still  by  foes. 
None  can  discern  his  gift  who  envy  not ; 
And  all  who  envy,  hate  and  persecute. 
Oft  with  complaints  he  has  molested  thee : 
Notes  intercepted,  violated  locks. 
Poison,  the  dagger !     All  before  him  float ! 
Thou  dost  investigate  his  grievance,  —  well. 
Doth  aught  appear  ?     Why,  scarcely  a  pretext. 
No  sovereign's  shelter  gives  him  confidence. 
The  bosom  of  no  friend  can  comfort  him. 
Wouldst  promise  happiness  to  such  a  man, 
Or  look  to  him  for  joy  unto  thyself  ? 

ALPHONSO. 

Thou  wouldst  be  right,  Antonio,  if  from  him 
I  sought  my  own  immediate  benefit ; 
But  I  have  learned  no  longer  to  expect 
Service  direct  and  unconditional. 
All  do  not  serve  us  in  the  selfsame  way : 
Who  needeth  much,  according  to  his  gifts 
Must  each  employ,  so  is  he  ably  served. 
This  lesson  from  the  Medici  we  learned, 
'Tis  practised  even  by  the  popes  themselves. 
With  what  forbearance,  magnanimity, 
And  princely  patience,  have  they  not  endured 
Full  many  a  genius,  v,  ho  seemed  not  to  need 
Their  ample  favour,  yet  who  needed  it ! 

ANTONIO. 

Who  knows  not  this,  my  prince  ?     The  toil  of  life 
Alone  can  tutor  us  life's  gifts  to  prize. 


2o8  TORQUATO  TASSO 

In  youth  he  hath  already  won  so  much, 

He  cannot  relish  aught  in  quietness. 

Oh  that  he  were  compelled  to  earn  the  blessings 

Which  now  with  liberal  hand  are  thrust  upon  him ! 

With  manly  courage  he  would  brace  his  strength, 

And  at  each  onward  step  feel  new  content. 

The  needy  noble  has  attained  the  height 

Of  his  ambition,  if  his  gracious  prince 

Kaise  him,  with  hand  benign,  from  poverty, 

And  choose  him  as  an  inmate  of  the  court. 

Should  he  then  honour  him  with  confidence, 

And  before  others  raise  him  to  his  side. 

Consulting  him  in  war,  or  state  affairs, 

Wliy,  then,  methinks,  with  silent  gratitude, 

The  modest  man  may  bless  his  lucky  fate. 

And  with  all  this,  Tasso  enjoys  besides 

Youth's  purest  happiness  :  —  his  fatherland 

Esteems  him  highly,  looks  to  him  with  hope. 

Trust  me  for  this,  —  his  peevish  discontent 

On  the  broad  pillow  of  his  fortune  rests. 

He  comes,  dismiss  him  kindly,  give  him  time 

In  Eome,  in  Naples,  whereso'er  he  will, 

To  search  in  vain  for  what  he  misses  here. 

Yet  here  alone  can  ever  hope  to  find. 

ALPHONSO. 

Back  to  Ferrara  will  he  first  return  ? 

ANTONIO. 

He  rather  would  remain  in  Belriguardo. 
And,  for  his  journey,  what  he  may  require. 
He  will  request  a  friend  to  forward  to  him. 

ALPHONSO. 

I  am  content.     My  sister,  with  her  friend, 
Eeturns  immediately  to  town  ;  and  I, 


TORQUATO  TASSO  209 

Eiding  with  speed,  hope  to  reach  home  before  them. 
Thou'lt  follow  straight  when  thou  for  him  hast  cared ; 
Give  needful  orders  to  the  castellan, 
That  in  the  castle  he  may  here  abide 
So  long  as  he  desires,  until  his  friend 
Forward  Ms  equipage,  and  till  the  letters, 
Which  we  shall  give  him  to  our  friends  at  Eome, 
Have  been  transmitted.     Here  he  comes.     Farewell ! 


Scene  H.  —  Alphonso,  Tasso. 

TASSO  {with  emharrassment). 

The  favour  thou  so  oft  hast  shown  me,  prince, 
Is  manifest,  in  clearest  light,  to-day. 
The  deed  which,  in  the  precincts  of  thy  palace, 
I  lawlessly  committed,  thou  hast  pardoned ; 
Thou  hast  appeased  and  reconciled  my  foe ; 
Thou  dost  permit  me  for  a  time  to  leave 
The  shelter  of  thy  side,  and,  rich  in  bounty, 
Wilt  not  withdraw  from  me  thy  generous  aid. 
Inspired  with  confidence,  I  now  depart, 
And  trust  that  this  brief  absence  will  dispel 
The  heavy  gloom  that  now  oppresses  me. 
My  renovated  soul  shall  plume  her  wing, 
And  pressing  forward  on  the  bright  career. 
Which,  glad  and  bold,  encouraged  by  thy  glance, 
I  entered  first,  deserve  thy  grace  anew. 

ALPHONSO. 

Prosperity  attend  thee  on  thy  way ! 
With  joyous  spirit,  and  to  health  restored, 
Eeturn  again  amongst  us.     Thus  thou  shalt 
To  us,  in  double  measure,  for  each  hour 
Thou  now  deprivest  us  of,  requital  bring. 
Letters  I  give  thee  to  my  friends  at  Eome, 


2IO  TORQUATO  TASSO 

And  also  to  my  kinsmen,  and  desire 
That  to  my  people  everywhere  thou  shoiildst 
Confidingly  attach  thyself  ;  —  though  absent, 
Thee  I  shall  certainly  regard  as  mine. 


TASSO. 

Thou  dost,  0  prince  !  o'erwhelm  with  favours  one 
Who  feels  himself  unworthy,  who  e'en  wants 
Ability  to  render  fitting  thanks. 
Instead  of  thanks  I  proffer  a  request : 
My  poem  now  lies  nearest  to  my  heart. 
My  labours  have  been  strenuous,  yet  I  feel 
That  I  am  far  from  having  reached  my  aim. 
Fain  would  I  there  resort,  where  hovers  yet 
The  inspiring  genius  of  the  mighty  dead. 
Still  raining  influence :  there  would  I  become 
Once  more  a  learner,  then  more  worthily 
My  poem  might  rejoice  in  thine  applause. 
Oh,  give  me  back  the  manuscript,  which  now 
I  feel  ashamed  to  know  within  thy  hand ! 


ALPHONSO. 

Thou  wilt  not  surely  take  from  me  to-day 
What  but  to-day  to  me  thou  hast  consigned. 
Between  thy  poem,  Tasso,  and  thyself, 
Let  me  now  stand  as  arbiter.     Beware  — 
Nor,  through  assiduous  diligence,  impair 
The  genial  nature  that  pervades  thy  rhymes. 
And  give  not  ear  to  every  critic's  word  ! 
With  nicest  tact  the  poet  reconciles 
The  judgments  thousandfold  of  different  men. 
In  thoughts  and  life  at  variance  with  each  other, 
And  fears  not  numbers  to  displease,  that  he 
Still  greater  numbers  may  enchant  the  more. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  211 

And  yet  I  say  not  but  that  here  and  there 
Thou  mayst,  with  modest  care,  employ  the  file, 
I  promise  thee  at  once,  that  in  brief  space. 
Thou  shalt  receive  a  copy  of  thy  poem. 
Meanwhile  1  will  retain  it  in  my  hands, 
That  I  may  first  enjoy  it  with  my  sisters. 
Then,  if  thou  bring'st  it  back  more  perfect  still, 
Our  joy  will  be  enhanced ;  and  here  and  there 
We'll  hint  corrections,  only  as  thy  friends. 


TASSO. 

I  can  but  modestly  repeat  my  prayer : 
Let  me  receive  the  copy  with  all  speed. 
My  spirit  resteth  solely  on  this  work, 
Its  full  completion  it  must  now  attain. 


ALPHONSO. 

I  praise  the  ardour  that  inspires  thee,  Tasso ! 
Yet,  were  it  possible,  thou  for  awhile 
Shouldst  rest  thy  mind,  seek  pleasure  in  the  world. 
And  find  some  means  to  cool  thy  heated  blood. 
Then  would  thy  mental  powers,  restored  to  health,. 
Through  their  sweet  harmony,  spontaneous  yield 
What  now,  with  anxious  toil,  in  vain  thou  seekest. 


TASSO. 

My  prince,  it  seems  so ;  but  I  am  in  health 

When  I  can  yield  myself  to  strenuous  toil. 

And  this  my  toil  again  restores  my  health. 

Long  hast  thou  known 'me ;  thou  must  long  have  seen, 

I  thrive  not  in  luxurious  indolence. 

Eest  brings  no  rest  to  me.     Alas  !  I  feel  it : 

My  mind,  by  nature,  never  was  ordained. 


212  TORQUATO  TASSO 

Borne  on  the  yielding  billows  of  the  hour, 
To  float  in  pleasure  o'er  time's  ample  sea. 

ALPHONSO. 

Thine  aims,  thy  dreams,  all  whelm  thee  in  thyself. 
Around  us  there  doth  yawn  full  many  a  gulf. 
Scooped  by  the  hand  of  destiny ;  but  here, 
In  our  own  bosoms,  hes  the  deepest ;  —  ay  ! 
And  tempting  'tis  to  hurl  one's  self  therein  ! 
I  charge  thee,  Tasso,  snatch  thee  from  thyself ! 
The  man  will  profit,  though  the  bard  may  lose. 

TASSO. 

To  quell  the  impulse  I  should  vainly  strive. 
Which,  ceaseless  in  my  bosom,  day  and  night 
Alternates  ever.     Life  were  life  no  more 
Were  I  to  cease  to  poetise,  to  dream. 
Wouldst  thou  forbid  the  cunning  worm  to  spin, 
Tor  that  to  nearer  death  he  spins  himself  ? 
From  his  own  being,  he  unfoldeth  still 
The  costly  texture,  nor  suspends  his  toil. 
Till  in  his  shroud  he  hath  immured  himself. 
Oh,  to  us  mortals  may  some  gracious  power 
Accord  the  insect's  enviable  doom. 
In  some  new  sunny  vale,  with  sudden  joy. 
To  spread  our  eager  pinions ! 

ALPHONSO. 

List  to  me ! 
Thou  givest  still  to  others  to  enjoy 
Life  with  a  twofold  relish.     Learn  thyself 
To  know  the  worth  of  life,  whose  richest  boon 
In  tenfold  measure  is  bestowed  on  thee. 
Now  fare  thee  well !     The  sooner  thou  returnest 
All  the  more  cordial  will  thy  welcome  be. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  213 


Scene   III. 

TASSO  {alone). 

Hold  fast,  my  heart,  thy  work  has  been  well  done ! 

The  task  was  arduous,  for  ne'er  before 

Didst  thou  or  wish  or  venture  to  dissemble. 

Ay,  thou  didst  hear  it,  that  was  not  his  mind. 

Nor  his  the  words :  to  me  it  still  appeared 

As  if  I  heard  again  Antonio's  voice. 

Only  give  heed !     Henceforth  on  every  side 

Thou'lt  hear  that  voice.     Be  firm,  my  heart,  be  firm ! 

'Tis  only  for  a  moment.     He  who  learns 

The  trick  of  simulation  late  in  life. 

Doth  outwardly  the  natural  semblance  wear 

Of  honest  faith :  practise,  and  thou'lt  succeed. 

{After  a  pause.) 
Too  soon  thou  triumphest,  for  lo  !  she  comes  ! 
The  gentle  princess  comes  !     Oh,  what  a  feehng ! 
She  enters  now :  suspicion  in  my  breast 
And  angry  sullen  ness  dissolve  in  grief. 


Scene   IV.  —  Princess,  Tasso.     {Toward  the  end  of 
the  scene  the  others.) 

princess. 

Thou  thinkest  to  forsake  us,  or  remainest 
Eather  behind  in  Belriguardo,  Tasso, 
And  then  thou  wilt  withdraw  thyself  from  us  ? 
I  trust  thine  absence  will  not  be  for  long. 
To  Rome  thou  goest  ? 

tasso. 

Thither  first  I  wend  ; 
And  if,  as  I  have  reason  to  expect, 


214  TORQUATO  TASSO 

I  from  my  friends  kind  welcome  there  receive, 
With  care  and  patient  toil  I  may,  at  length, 
Impart  its  highest  finish  to  my  poem. 
Full  many  men  I  find  assembled  there. 
Masters  who  may  be  styled  in  every  art. 
Ay,  and  in  that  first  city  of  the  world, 
Hath  not  each  site,  yea,  every  stone,  a  tongue  ? 
How  many  thousand  silent  monitors. 
With  earnest  mien,  majestic,  beckon  us  ! 
There  if  I  fail  to  make  my  work  complete, 
I  never  shall  complete  it.     Ah,  I  feel  it  — 
Success  doth  wait  on  no  attempt  of  mine ! 
Still  altering,  I  ne'er  shall  perfect  it. 
I  feel,  yea,  deeply  feel,  the  noble  art 
That  quickens  others,  and  does  strength  infuse 
Into  the  healthy  soul,  will  drive  me  forth, 
And  bring  me  to  destruction.     Forth  I  haste ! 
I  will  to  Naples  first. 

PRINCESS. 

Barest  thou  venture  ? 
Still  is  the  rigid  sentence  unrepealed 
Which  banished  thee,  together  with  thy  father. 


TASSO. 

I  know  the  danger,  and  have  pondered  it. 
Disguised  I  go,  in  tattered  garb,  perchance 
Of  shepherd  or  of  pilgrim,  meanly  clad. 
Unseen  I  wander  through  the  city,  where 
The  movements  of  the  many  shroud  the  one. 
Then  to  the  shore  I  hasten,  find  a  bark. 
With  people  of  Sorrento,  pleasant  folk, 
Eeturning  home  from  market ;  for  I  too 
Must  hasten  to  Sorrento.     There  resides 
My  sister,  ever  to  my  parents'  heart, 
Together  with  myself,  a  mournful  joy. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  215 

I  speak  not  in  the  bark ;  I  step  ashore 
Also  in  silence ;  slowly  T  ascend 
The  upward  path,  and  at  the  gate  inquire, 
Where  may  she  dwell,  Cornelia  Sersale  ? 
With  friendly  mien,  a  woman  at  her  wheel 
Shows  me  the  street,  the  house ;  I  hasten  on ; 
The  children  run  beside  me,  and  survey 
The  gloomy  stranger  with  the  shaggy  locks. 
Thus  I  approach  the  threshold.     Open  stands 
The  cottage  door ;  I  step  into  the  house  — 


PRINCESS. 

Oh,  Tasso !  if  'tis  possible,  look  up, 

And  see  the  danger  that  environs  thee ! 

I  spare  thy  feelings,  else  I  well  might  ask, 

Is't  noble,  so  to  speak  as  now  thou  speakest  ? 

Is't  noble  of  thyself  alone  to  think. 

As  if  thou  didst  not  wound  the  heart  of  friends  ? 

My  brother's  sentiments,  are  they  concealed  ? 

And  how  we  sisters  prize  and  honour  thee,  — 

Hast  thou  not  known  and  felt  it  ?     Can  it  be, 

That  a  few  moments  should  have  altered  all  ? 

Oh,  Tasso !  if  thou  wilt  indeed  depart, 

Yet  do  not  leave  behind  thee  grief  and  care. 

(Tasso  hir7is  away.) 
How  soothing  to  the  sorrowing  heart  to  give, 
To  the  dear  friend  who  leaves  us  for  a  season. 
Some  trifling  present,  though  'twere  nothing  more 
Than  a  new  mantle,  or  a  sword  perchance  ! 
There's  nought,  alas  !  that  we  can  offer  thee. 
For  thou  ungraciously  dost  fling  aside 
E'en  what  thou  hast.     Thou  choosest  for  thyself 
The  pilgrim's  scallop-shell,  his  sombre  weeds, 
His  staff  to  lean  on,  and  departing  thus. 
In  willing  poverty,  from  us  thou  takest 
The  only  pleasure  we  could  share  with  thee. 


2i6  TORQUATO  TASSO 

TASSO. 

Then,  thou  wilt  not  reject  me  utterly  ? 
Oh,  precious  words  !     Oh,  comfort  dear  and  sweet ! 
Do  thou  defend  me !     Shield  me  with  thy  care !  — 
Oh,  send  me  to  ConsandoH,  or  here. 
Keep  me  in  Belriguardo,  where  thou  wilt ! 
The  prince  is  lord  of  many  a  pleasant  seat, 
Of  many  a  garden,  which  the  whole  year  round 
Is  duly  kept,  whose  paths  ye  scarcely  tread 
A  single  day,  perchance  but  for  an  hour. 
Then,  choose  among  them  all  the  most  remote 
Which  through  long  years  ye  have  not  visited, 
And  which  perchance  e'en  now  untended  lies. 
Oh,  send  me  thither  !     There  let  me  be  yours ! 
And  I  will  tend  thy  trees ;  with  screen  and  tile 
Will  shield  thy  citrons  from  autumnal  blasts. 
Fencing  them  round  with  interwoven  reeds ; 
Flowers  of  the  fairest  hue  shall  in  the  beds 
Strike  deep  their  spreading  roots ;  with  nicest  care 
Each  pathway,  every  corner,  shall  be  kept : 
And  of  the  palace  also  give  me  charge ; 
At  proper  times  the  windows  I  will  open. 
Lest  noxious  vapours  should  the  pictures  mar ; 
The  walls,  with  choicest  stucco-work  adorned, 
I  with  light  feather- work  will  free  from  dust ; 
There  shall  the  polished  pavement  brightly  shine ; 
There  shall  no  stone,  no  tiling,  be  misplaced ; 
There  shall  no  weeds  sprout  from  the  crevices ! 

PKINCESS. 

I  find  no  counsel  in  my  troubled  breast. 
And  find  no  comfort  for  thyself  and  —  us. 
Around  I  look  to  see  if  some  kind  god 
Will  haply  grant  us  succour,  and  reveal 
Some  healing  plant,  or  potion,  to  restore 
Peace  to  thy  bewildered  senses,  peace  to  us ! 


TORQUATO  TASSO  217 

The  truest  word  that  floweth  from  the  lip, 
The  surest  remedy,  hath  lost  its  power. 
Leave  thee  I  must,  —  yet  doth  my  heart  refuse 
From  thee  to  part. 

TASSO. 

Ye  gods  !     And  is  it  she  ? 
She  who  thus  pities,  who  thus  speaks  with  thee  ? 
And  couldst  thou  e'er  mistake  that  noble  heart  ? 
And,  in  her  presence,  was  it  possible, 
That  thee  despondency  could  seize,  could  master  ? 
No,  no,  'tis  thou  !     I  am  myself  again  ! 
Oh,  speak  once  more !     Sweet  comfort  let  me  hear 
Again  from  thy  dear  hps !     Speak,  nor  withdraw 
Thy  counsel  from  me.     Say,  what  must  I  do. 
That  I  may  win  the  pardon  of  the  prince. 
That  thou  thyself  mayst  freely  pardon  me. 
That  ye  may  both  with  pleasure  take  me  back 
Into  your  princely  service  ?     Speak  to  me. 

PKINCESS. 

It  is  but  little  we  require  from  thee, 
And  yet  that  little  seemeth  all  too  much. 
Freely  shouldst  thou  resign  thyself  to  us. 
We  wish  not  from  thee  aught  but  what  thou  art, 
If  only  with  thyself  thou  wert  at  peace. 
When  joy  thou  feelest,  thou  dost  cause  us  joy ; 
When  thou  dost  fly  from  it,  thou  grievest  us ; 
And  if  sometimes  we  are  impatient  with  thee, 
'Tis  only  that  we  fain  would  succour  thee, 
And  feel,  alas  !  our  succour  all  in  vain, 
If  thou  the  friendly  hand  forbear  to  gi'asp, 
Stretched  longingly,  which  yet  doth  reach  thee  not. 

TASSO. 

'Tis  thou  thyself,  a  holy  angel  still, 

As  when  at  first  thou  didst  appear  to  me ! 


2i8  TORQUATO  TASSO 

The  mortal's  darkened  vision,  oh,  forgive  ! 

If,  while  he  gazed,  he  for  a  moment  erred, 

Now  he  again  discerns  thee  ;  and  his  soul 

Aspires  to  honour  thee  eternally. 

A  flood  of  tenderness  o'erwhelms  my  heart  — 

She  stands  before  me  !     She  !     What  feeling  this  ? 

Is  it  distraction  draws  me  unto  thee  ? 

Or  is  it  madness  ?  or  a  sense  sublime 

Which  apprehends  the  purest,  loftiest  truth  ? 

Yes :  'tis  the  only  feeling  that  on  earth 

Hath  power  to  make  and  keep  me  truly  blest. 

Or  that  could  overwhelm  me  with  despair, 

What  time  I  wrestled  with  it,  and  resolved 

To  banish  it  for  ever  from  my  heart. 

This  fiery  passion  I  had  thought  to  quell. 

Still  with  mine  inmost  being  strove  and  strove, 

And  in  the  strife  my  very  self  destroyed, 

Which  is  to  thee  indissolubly  bound. 

PRINCESS. 

If  thou  wouldst  have  me,  Tasso,  listen  to  thee. 
Restrain  this  fervid  glow,  which  frightens  me. 

TASSO. 

Eestrains  the  goblet's  rim  the  bubbhng  wine 

That  sparkling  foams,  and  overflows  its  bounds  ? 

Thine  every  word  doth  elevate  my  bliss. 

With  every  word  more  brightly  gleams  thine  eye, 

Over  my  spirit's  depths  there  comes  a  change : 

Eelieved  from  dark  perplexity,  I  feel 

Free  as  a  god ;  and  all  I  owe  to  thee ! 

A  charm  unspeakable,  which  masters  me. 

Flows  from  thy  lips.     Thou  makest  me  all  thine. 

Of  my  own  being  nought  belongs  to  me. 

Mine  eye  grows  dim  in  happiness  and  light, 

My  senses  fail ;  no  more  my  foot  sustains  me : 


TORQUATO  TASSO  219 

Thou  drawest  me  to  thee  with  resistless  might, 
And  my  heart  rushes  self-impelled  to  thee. 
Me  hast  thou  won  for  all  eternity, 
Then  take  my  whole  of  being  to  thyself. 

{He  throws  himself  into  her  arms,  and  clasps  her  to 
his  bosom.) 

PRINCESS. 

(Throwing  him  from  her,  and  retiring  in  haste.) 
Away  ! 

LEONORA. 

( Wlio  has  for  some  time  appeared  in  the  background, 
hastening  forvjard.) 

What  hath  befallen  ?     Tasso !     Tasso  ! 

{She  follows  the  Princess.) 

TASSO  {about  to  follow  her). 
0  God ! 

ALPHONSO. 

(Who    has    for    some    time    been    approaching    with 

Antonio.) 

He  is  distracted  :  hold  him  fast. 


[Exit. 


Scene  V.  —  Tasso,  Antonio. 


ANTONIO. 

If  that  a  foeman  —  as  thou  deem'st  thyself 

Environed  by  a  multitude  of  foes  — 

Beside  thee  stood,  how  would  he  triumph  now ! 

Unhappy  man  !     I  am  not  yet  myself  ! 

When  something  quite  unparallelled  occurs, 

When  something  monstrous  first  arrests  our  sight. 


2  20  TORQUATO  TASSO 

The  staggered  spirit  stands  a  moment  still ; 
For  we  know  nothing  to  compare  it  with. 

TASSO  (after  a  long  pause). 

Fulfil  thine  office  :  I  perceive  'tis  thou  ! 
Ay,  thou  deservest  the  prince's  confidence. 
Fulfil  thine  office,  since  my  doom  is  sealed : 
With  lingering  tortures,  torture  me  to  death ! 
Draw  !  draw  the  shaft,  that  I  may  feel  the  barb 
That  lacerates,  with  cruel  pangs,  my  heart ! 
The  tyrant's  precious  instrument  art  thou ; 
Be  thou  his  jailer  —  executioner  — 
For  these  are  offices  become  thee  well ! 

(Toward  the  scene.y 
Yes,  tyrant,  go !     Thou  couldst  not  to  the  last 
Thy  wonted  mask  retain  ;  in  triumph  go  ! 
Thy  slave  thou  hast  well  pinioned,  hast  reserved 
For  predetermined  and  protracted  pangs ; 
Yes,  go  !     I  hate  thee.     In  my  heart  I  feel 
The  horror  which  despotic  power  excites, 
When  it  is  grasping,  cruel,  and  unjust. 

[After  a  pause) 
Thus,  then,  at  last,  I  see  myself  exiled, 
Turned  off,  and  thrust  forth  like  a  mendicant ! 
Thus  they  with  garlands  wreathed  me,  but  to  lead 
The  victim  to  the  shrine  of  sacrifice ! 
Thus,  at  the  very  last,  with  cunning  words, 
They  drew  from  me  my  only  property. 
My  poem,  —  ay,  and  they  retain  it  too  ! 
Now  is  my  one  possession  in  your  hands, 
My  bright  credential  wheresoe'er  I  went. 
My  sole  resource  'gainst  biting  poverty ! 
Ay,  now  I  see  why  I  must  take  mine  ease. 
'Tis  a  conspiracy,  and  thou  the  head. 
Thus  that  my  song  may  not  be  perfected, 
That  my  renown  may  ne'er  be  spread  abroad. 


TORQUATO  TASSO  221 

That  envy  still  a  thousand  faults  may  find, 
And  my  uulionoured  name  forgotten  die : 
Therefore  I  must  consent  to  idleness, 
Therefore  must  spare  my  faculties,  myself. 
Oh,  precious  friendship  !     Dear  solicitude  ! 
Odious  appeared  the  dark  conspiracy 
Which  ceaseless  round  me  wove  its  viewless  web, 
But  still  more  odious  does  it  now  appear ! 

And  thou  too.  Siren !  who  so  tenderly 
Didst  lead  me  on  with  thy  celestial  mien. 
Thee  now  I  know  !     Wherefore,  O  God,  so  late  ! 

But  we  so  willingly  deceive  ourselves. 

We  honour  reprobates,  who  honour  us. 

True  men  are  never  to  each  other  known : 

Such  knowledge  is  reserved  for  galley-slaves, 

Chained  to  a  narrow  plank,  who  gasp  for  breath, 

Where  none  hath  aught  to  ask,  nor  aught  to  lose. 

Where  for  a  rascal  each  avows  himself, 

And  holds  his  neighbour  for  a  rascal  too,  — 

Such  men  as  these,  perchance,  may  know  each  other. 

But  for  the  rest  we  courteously  misjudge  them, 

Hoping  they  may  misjudge  us  in  return. 

How  long  thine  hallowed  image  from  my  gaze 
Veiled  the  coquette,  working  with  paltry  arts ! 
The  mask  has  fallen  !  —  Now  I  see  Armida 
Denuded  of  her  charms  —  yes,  thou  art  she. 
Of  whom  my  bodeful  verse  prophetic  sang ! 

And  then  the  little,  cunning  go-between ! 
With  what  profound  contempt  I  view  her  now  ! 
I  hear  the  rustling  of  her  stealthy  step, 
As  round  me  still  she  spreads  her  artful  toils. 
Ay,  now  I  know  you  !     And  let  that  suiJice ! 


22  2  TORQUATO  TASSO 

And  misery,  though  it  beggar  me  of  all, 

I  honour  still,  —  for  it  hath  taught  me  truth. 

ANTONIO. 

I  hear  thee  with  amazement,  though  I  know 
How  thy  rash  humour,  Tasso,  urges  thee 
To  rush  in  haste  to  opposite  extremes. 
Collect  thy  spirit  and  command  thy  rage ! 
Thou  speakest  slander,  dost  indulge  in  words 
Which  to  thine  anguish  though  they  be  forgiven, 
Yet  thou  canst  ne'er  forgive  unto  thyself. 

TASSO. 

Oh,  speak  not  to  me  with  a  gentle  lip : 
Let  me  not  hear  one  prudent  word  from  thee ! 
Leave  me  my  sullen  happiness,  that  I 
May  not  regain  my  senses,  but  to  lose  them. 
My  very  bones  are  crushed,  yet  do  I  live ;  — 
Ay  !  live  to  feel  the  agonising  pain. 
Despair  infolds  me  in  its  ruthless  grasp ; 
And,  in  the  hell-pang  that  annihilates. 
These  slanderous  words  are  but  a  feeble  cry 
Wrung  from  the  depth  of  my  sore  agony. 
I  will  away !     If  honest,  point  the  path, 
And  suffer  me  at  once  to  fly  from  hence. 

ANTONIO. 

In  thine  extremity  I  will  not  leave  thee ; 
And,  shouldst  thou  wholly  lose  thy  self-control, 
My  patience  shall  not  fail. 

TASSO. 

And  must  I,  then, 
Yield  myself  up  a  prisoner  to  thee  ? 
Resigned  I  yield  myself,  and  it  is  done : 


TORQUATO  TASSO  223 

I  cease  to  struggle,  and  'tis  well  with  me.  — 

Now  let  mine  anguished  heart  recall  how  fair 

What,  as  in  sport,  I  madly  flung  away. 

They  hence  depart  —  0  God  !     I  there  behold 

The  dust,  ascending  from  their  chariot-wheels  — 

The  riders  in  advance  —  ay,  there  they  go 

E'en  to  the  very  place  from  whence  I  came ! 

Now  they  are  gone  —  they  are  estranged  from  me. 

Oh  that  I  once  again  had  kissed  his  hand ! 

Oh  that  I  once  again  might  say  farewell ! 

Once  only  might  I  falter.  Oh,  forgive ! 

Once  only  hear  the  word.  Go,  thou'rt  forgiven ! 

Alas  !  I  hear  it  not :  —  I  ne'er  shall  hear  it  — 

Yes,  I  will  go !     Let  me  but  say  farewell. 

Only  farewell !     Give  me,  oh,  give  me  back 

Their  longed-for  presence  for  a  single  moment ! 

Perchance  I  might  recover  !     Never  more  ! 

I  am  rejected,  doomed  to  banishment ! 

Alas !  1  am  self-banished,  never  more 

To  hear  that  gentle  voice,  that  tender  glance 

To  meet  no  more  — 

ANTONIO. 

Yet  hear  the  voice  of  one 
Who,  not  without  emotion,  stands  beside  thee  ! 
Thou'rt  not  so  wretched,  Tasso,  as  thou  thinkest. 
Collect  thyself !     Too  much  thou  art  unmanned. 

TASSO. 

And  am  I,  then,  as  wretched  as  I  seem  ? 

Am  I  as  weak  as  I  do  show  myself ' 

Say,  is  all  lost  ?     Has  sorrow's  direful  stroke. 

As  with  an  earthquake's  sudden  shock,  transformed 

The  stately  pile  into  a  ruined  heap  ? 

Is  all  the  genius  flown  that  did  erewhile 

So  richly  charm,  and  so  exalt  my  soul  ? 

Is  all  the  \^ower  extinguished  which  of  yore 


2  24  TORQUATO  TASSO 

Stirred  in  my  bosom's  depths  ?     Am  I  become 
A  nothing  ?     A  mere  nothing  ?     No  :  all's  here  ! 
I  have  it  still,  and  yet  myself  am  nothing ! 
I  from  myself  am  severed,  she  from  me ! 

ANTONIO. 

Though  to  thyself  thou  seemest  so  forlorn, 
Be  calm,  and  bear  in  mind  what  still  thou  art ! 

TASSO. 

Ay,  in  due  season  thou  remindest  me !  — 
Hath  history  no  example  for  mine  aid  ? 
Before  me  doth  there  rise  no  man  of  worth 
Who  more  hath  borne  than  I,  that  with  his  fate 
Mine  own  comparing,  I  may  gather  strength  ? 
No :  all  is  gone  !  —  but  one  thing  still  remains,  — 
Tears,  balmy  tears,  kind  nature  has  bestowed. 
The  cry  of  anguish,  when  the  man  at  length 
Can  bear  no  more  —  yea,  and  to  me  beside, 
She  leaves  in  sorrow  melody  and  speech. 
To  utter  forth  the  fulness  of  my  woe : 
Though  in  their  mortal  anguish  men  are  dumb. 
To  me  a  God  hath  given  to  tell  my  grief. 

(Antonio  approaches  him,  and  takes  his  haind.) 
Oh,  noble  man !  thou  standest  firm  and  calm. 
While  I  am  like  the  tempest-driven  wave. 
But  be  not  boastful  of  thy  strength.     Reflect ! 
Nature,  whose  mighty  power  hath  fixed  the  rock, 
Gives  to  the  wave  its  instability. 
She  sends  her  storm,  the  passive  wave  is  driven, 
And  rolls  and  swells  and  falls  in  billowy  foam. 
Yet  in  this  very  wave  the  glorious  sun 
Mirrors  his  splendour,  and  the  quiet  stars 
Upon  its  heaving  bosom  gently  rest. 
Dimmed  is  the  splendour,  vanished  is  the  calm  !  — 
In  danger's  hour  I  know  myself  no  longer, 


i}i9mfiix)^d  gniJnifiq  arij  moil  3-iovB-i§oiorf4 


TORQUATO  TASSO 

om's  depths  1     Am  I  become 
':     A  mere  nothing  ?     No  ;  all's  here  I 
" '   and  y  ::lf  am  nothing ! 

.u  iiijccii.  am  sev^i^^.-i;  ishe  from  me! 


ANTONIO. 


Though 


self  thou  seemest  so  forlorn, 


Be  calm,  and  bear  in  mind  what  still  thou  art ! 


Ay,  in  due  ser 
Hath  histo 
Before  me 
Who  more 
Mine  own 
X^i :  all  is  goi 
s,  balmy 


f«;-.A 


i  remams,  — 


I'o  utter  fc 

Though  in 

To  me  a  G 

(A 

01:      v..,T,1a     . 


en  are  dumb, 

^  "Ms  hand.) 


But  be  not 

Nature,  wh  iic  lock, 

rr  -  ). 

A  rriivA  is  driven, 
.  ■WY  foam. 

Yet  in  tins  very  wave  the  glorious  sun 
Mirror:  'end our,  a  s 

,        .  ■     ';T  .  ij, lon^rer,  . 

1  hotogravure  from  the  painting  by  Giametti 


TORQUATO  TASSO  225 

Nor  am  I  now  ashamed  of  the  confession. 
The  helm  is  broken,  and  on  every  side 
The  reehng  vessel  splits.     The  riven  planks, 
Bursting  asunder,  yawn  beneath  my  feet ! 
Thus  with  my  outstretched  arms  I  cling  to  thee  ! 
So  doth  the  shipwrecked  mariner  at  last 
Cling  to  the  rock  whereon  his  vessel  struck. 


Goetz   von    Berlichingen 

With  the   Iron   Hand 

A   Drama 
Translated  by  Sir  Walter  Scott 


This  drama  was  written  in  1771 ;  but  it  was  not  published  until 
1778,  during  which  interval  it  underwent  considerable  alterations. 
It  was  the  lirst  work  which  Goethe  submitted  to  the  public  ;  and 
it  at  once  excited  gi'eat  attention,  both  on  account  of  the  origi- 
nality of  the  subject,  and  of  the  vigorous  and  unconventional  man- 
ner in  which  it  was  worked  out. 


227 


Translator's  Preface 

GOETZ  VON  Berlichingen,  the  hero  of  the  following 
drama,  flourished  in  the  fifteenth  century,  during  the 
reign  of  Maximilian  the  First,  Emperor  of  Germany, 
Previous  to  this  period,  every  German  noble  holding  a 
fief  immediately  from  the  emperor,  exercised  on  his 
estate  a  species  of  sovereignty  subordinate  to  the  im- 
perial authority  alone.  Thus,  from  the  princes  and 
prelates  possessed  of  extensive  territories,  down  to  the 
free  knights  and  barons,  whose  domains  consisted  of  a 
castle  and  a  few  acres  of  mountain  and  forest  ground, 
each  w^as  a  petty  monarch  upon  his  own  property,  inde- 
pendent of  all  control  but  the  remote  supremacy  of  the 
emperor. 

Among  the  extensive  rights  conferred  by  such  a  con- 
stitution, that  of  waging  war  against  each  other,  by 
their  own  private  authority,  was  most  precious  to  a 
race  of  proud  and  military  barons.  These  private  wars 
were  called  feuds,  and  the  privilege  of  carrying  them  on 
was  named  Faustrecht  (club-law).  As  the  empire  ad- 
vanced in  civilisation,  the  evils  attending  feuds  became 
dreadfully  conspicuous :  each  petty  knight  was  by  law 
entitled  to  make  war  upon  his  neighbours  without  any 
further  ceremony  than  three  days'  previous  defiance  by 
a  written  form  called  Fclidchrief.  Even  the  Golden 
Bull,  which  remedied  so  many  evils  in  the  Germanic 
body,  left  this  dangerous  privilege  in  full  vigour.  In 
time  the  residence  of  every  free  baron  became  a  fortress, 
from  which,  as  his  passions  or  avarice  dictated,  sallied 
a  band  of  marauders  to  back  his  quarrel,  or  to  collect 
an  extorted  revenue  from  the  merchants  who  presumed 


230  TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE 

to  pass  through  his  domain.  At  length  whole  bands 
of  these  freebooting  nobles  used  to  league  together  for 
the  purpose  of  mutual  defence  against  their  more  power- 
ful neighbours,  as  likewise  for  that  of  predatory  excur- 
sions against  the  princes,  free  towns,  and  ecclesiastic 
states  of  the  empire,  whose  wealth  tempted  the  needy- 
barons  to  exercise  against  them  their  privilege  of  wag- 
ing private  war.  These  confederacies  were  distinguished 
by  various  titles  expressive  of  their  object :  we  find 
among  them  the  Brotherhood  of  the  Mace,  the  Knights 
of  the  Bloody  Sleeve,  etc.  If  one  of  the  brotherhood 
was  attacked,  the  rest  marched  without  delay  to  his 
assistance  ;  and  thus,  though  individually  weak,  the 
petty  feudatories  maintained  their  gi^ound  against  the 
more  powerful  members  of  the  empire.  Their  inde- 
pendence and  privileges  were  recognised  and  secured 
to  them  by  many  edicts  ;  and  though  hated  and  oc- 
casionally oppressed  by  the  princes  and  ecclesiastical 
authorities,  to  whom  in  return  they  were  a  scourge  and 
a  pest,  they  continued  to  maintain  tenaciously  the  good 
old  privilege  (as  they  termed  it)  of  Faustrecht,  which 
they  had  inherited  from  their  fathers.  Amid  the  ob- 
vious mischiefs  attending  such  a  state  of  society,  it 
must  be  allowed  that  it  is  frequently  the  means  of 
calling  into  exercise  the  highest  heroic  virtues.  Men 
daily  exposed  to  danger,  and  living  by  the  constant 
exertion  of  their  courage,  acquired  the  virtues  as  well 
as  the  vices  of  a  savage  state ;  and  among  many  in- 
stances of  cruelty  and  rapine,  occur  not  a  few  of  the 
most  exalted  valour  and  generosity.  If  the  fortress  of 
a  German  knight  was  the  dread  of  the  wealthy  mer- 
chant and  abbot,  it  was  often  the  ready  and  hospitable 
refuge  of  the  weary  pilgrim  and  oppressed  peasant. 
Although  the  ovraer  subsisted  by  the  plunder  of  the 
rich,  yet  he  was  frequently  beneficent  to  the  poor,  and 
beloved  by  his  own  family  dependents  and  allies.  The 
spirit  of  chivalry  doubtless  contributed  much  to  soften 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE  231 

the  character  of  these  marauding  nobles.  A  respect 
for  themselves  taught  them  generosity  toward  their 
prisoners,  and  certain  acknowledged  rules  prevented 
many  of  the  atrocities  which  it  might  have  been  ex- 
pected would  have  marked  these  feuds.  No  German 
noble,  for  example,  if  made  captive,  was  confined  in 
fetters  or  in  a  dungeon,  but  remained  a  prisoner  at 
large  upon  his  parole  (which  was  called  knightly  ward), 
either  in  the  castle  of  his  conqueror,  or  in  some  other 
place  assigned  to  him.  The  same  species  of  honourable 
captivity  was  often  indulged  by  the  emperor  to  of- 
fenders of  a  noble  rank,  of  which  some  instances  will 
be  found  in  the  following  pages. 

Such  was  the  state  of  the  German  nobles,  when,  on 
the  7th  of  August,  1495,  was  published  the  memorable 
edict  of  Maximihan  for  the  establishment  of  the  pubhc 
peace  of  the  empire.  By  this  ordinance,  the  right  of 
private  war  was  totally  abrogated,  under  the  penalty 
of  the  Ban  of  the  empire,  to  be  enforced  by  the  Im- 
perial Chamber  then  instituted.  This  was  at  once  a 
sentence  of  anathema  secular  and  spiritual,  containing 
the  dooms  of  outlawry  and  excommunication.  This 
ordinance  was  highly  acceptable  to  the  princes,  bishops, 
and  free  towns,  who  had  little  to  gain  and  much  to 
lose  in  these  perpetual  feuds ;  and  they  combined  to 
enforce  it  with  no  small  severity  against  the  petty 
feudatories :  these,  on  the  other  hand,  sensible  that  the 
very  root  of  their  importance  consisted  in  their  privi- 
lege of  declaring  private  war,  without  which  they  fore- 
saw they  would  not  long  be  able  to  maintain  their 
independence,  struggled  hard  against  the  execution  of 
this  edict,  by  which  their  confederacies  were  declared 
unlawful,  and  all  means  taken  from  them  of  resisting 
their  richer  neighbours. 

Upon  the  jarring  interests  of  the  princes  and  clergy 
on  the  one  hand,  and  of  the  free  knights  and  petty  im- 
perial feudatories  on  the  other,  arise  the  incidents  of 


232  TRANSLATOR'S   PREFACE 

the  following  drama.  The  hero,  Goetz  von  Berlich- 
ingen,  was  in  reality  a  zealous  champion  for  the  priv- 
ileges of  the  free  knights,  and  was  repeatedly  laid 
under  the  Ban  of  the  empire  for  the  feuds  in  which  he 
was  engaged,  from  which  he  was  only  released  in  con- 
sequence of  high  reputation  for  gallantry  and  gener- 
osity. His  life  was  published  at  Nuremberg,  1731 ; 
and  some  account  of  his  exploits,  with  a  declaration  of 
feud  (^Fehdcbrief)  issued  by  him  against  that  city,  will 
be  found  in  Meusel's  "  Inquiry  into  History,"  vol.  iv. 

While  the  princes  and  free  knights  were  thus  banded 
against  each  other,  the  peasants  and  bondsmen  remained 
in  the  most  abject  state  of  ignorance  and  oppression. 
This  occasioned  at  different  times  the  most  desperate 
insurrections,  resembling  in  their  nature,  and  in  the 
atrocities  committed  by  the  furious  insurgents,  the  re- 
bellions of  Tyler  and  Cade  in  England,  or  that  of 
the  Jacquerie  in  France.  Such  an  event  occurs  in  the 
following  tragedy.  There  is  also  a  scene  founded  upon 
the  noted  institution  called  the  Secret  or  Invisible 
Tribunal.  With  this  extraordinary  judicatory,  the 
members  and  executioners  of  which  were  unknown, 
and  met  in  secret  to  doom  to  death  those  criminals 
whom  other  courts  of  justice  could  not  reach,  the 
English  reader  has  been  made  acquainted  by  several 
translations  from  the  German,  particularly  the  excel- 
lent romances  called  "  Herman  of  Unna,"  and  "  Alf 
von  Duilman." 

The  following  drama  was  written  by  the  elegant 
author  of  the  "  Sorrows  of  Werther,"  in  imitation,  it  is 
said,  of  the  manner  of  Shakespeare.  This  resemblance 
is  not  to  be  looked  for  in  the  style  or  expression,  but 
in  the  outline  of  the  characters,  and  mode  of  conduct- 
ing the  incidents  of  the  piece.  In  Germany  it  is  the 
object  of  enthusiastic  admiration,  partly  owing  doubt- 
less to  the  force  of  national  partiality  toward  a  per- 
formance in  which  the  ancient  manners  of  the  country 


TRANSLATOR'S   PREFACE  233 

are  faithfully  and  forcibly  painted.  Losing,  however, 
this  advantage,  and  under  all  the  defects  of  a  trans- 
lation, the  translator  ventures  to  hope,  that,  in  the  fol- 
lowing pages,  there  will  still  be  found  something  to 
excite  interest.  Some  liberties  have  been  taken  with 
the  original,  in  omitting  two  occasional  disquisitions 
upon  the  civil  law  as  practised  in  Germany.^  Literal 
accuracy  has  been  less  studied  in  the  translation,  than 
an  attempt  to  convey  the  spirit  and  general  effect  of 
the  piece.  Upon  the  whole,  it  is  hoped  the  version 
will  be  found  faithful ;  of  which  the  translator  is  less 
distrustful,  owing  to  the  friendship  of  a  gentleman  of 
high  hterary  eminence,  who  has  obhgingly  taken  the 
trouble  of  superintending  the  publication. 

Walter  Scott. 

Edinburgh,  3d  February,  1799. 

1  In  the  present  revision  these  omitted  portions  are  restored, 
whilst  a  few  corrections  have  been  made  with  a  view  to  greater 
literalness.  —  Ed. 


Dramatis  Personae 

Maximilian,  Emperor  of  Germany. 

GoETZ  VON  Berlichingen,  a  free  knight  of  the  empire. 

Elizabeth,  his  wife. 

Maria,  his  sister. 

Charles,  his  son,  —  a  boy. 

George,  his  page. 

Bishop  of  Bamberg. 

Adelbert  von  Weislingen,  a  free  German  knight  of  the 

empire. 
Adelaide  von  Walldorf,  widow  of  the  Count  von  Wall- 

dorf. 
LiEBTRAUT,  a  courtier  of  the  Bishop's. 
Abbot  of  Fulda,  residing  at  the  Bishop's  court. 
Olearius,  a  doctor  of  laws. 
Brother  Martin,  a  monk. 

Hans  von  Selbitz,  )  Free     knights,    in   alliance    with 

Franz  von  Sickingen,   )  Goetz. 

Lerse,  a  trooper. 
Francis,  esquire  to  Weislingen. 
Female  attendant  on  Adelaide. 

President,  Accuser,  and  Avenger  of  the  Secret  Tribunal. 
Metzler," 
Sievers, 

Link,  y  Leaders  of  the  insurgent  peasantry. 

Kohl, 
Wild, 
Imperial  Commissioners. 
Two  Merchants  of  Nuremberg. 
Magistrates  of  Heilbronn. 

Maximilian  Stumf,  a  vassal  of  the  Palsgrave. 
An  unknown. 
Bride's  father,  y 
Bride,  >  Peasants. 

BridegToom,      ) 
Gipsy  captain. 
Gipsy  mother  and  women. 
Sticks  and  Wolf,  gipsies. 
Imperial  captain. 
Imperial  officers. 
Innkeeper. 
Sentinel. 
Sergeant-at-arms. 

Imperial  soldiers  —  Troopers  belonging  to  Goetz,  to  Selbitz, 
to  Sickingen,  and  to  Weislingen  —  Peasants  —  Gipsies  — 
Judges  of  the  Secret  Tribunal — Jailers  —  Courtiers,  etc. 

234 


Goetz  von   Berlichingen 

With  the  Iron   Hand 


ACT  I. 

Scene  I,  —  An   Inn  at  Schwarzenberg  in  Franconia. 

Metzler  and  Sievers,  two  Swahian  peasants,  are 
seated  at  a  table.  At  the  fire,  at  some  distanee  from 
them,  tivo  troopers  from  Bamberg.    The  Innkeeper. 

Sievers.  Hansel !  Another  cup  of  brandy  —  and 
Christian  measure. 

Innkeeper.     Thou  art  a  Never-enough. 

Metzler  {apart  to  Sievers).  Repeat  that  again 
about  Berhchingen.  —  The  Bambergers,  there,  are  so 
angry  they  are  almost  black  in  the  face. 

Sievers.  Bambergers !  —  What  are  they  about 
here  ? 

Metzler.  Weislingen  has  been  two  days  up  yonder 
at  the  castle  with  the  earl  —  they  are  his  attendants 
—  they  came  vdth  him,  I  know  not  whence.  They 
are  waiting  for  him —  He  is  going  back  to  Bam- 
berg. 

Sievers.     Who  is  that  Weislingen  ? 

Metzler.  The  Bishop  of  Bamberg's  right  hand  !  a 
powerful  lord,  who  is  lying  in  wait  to  play  Goetz  some 
trick. 

Sievers.     He  had  better  take  care  of  himself. 

23s 


236  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

Metzlek  (aside).  Prithee  go  on !  {Aloud.)  How 
long  is  it  since  Goetz  had  a  new  dispute  with  the 
bishop  ?  I  thought  all  had  been  agreed  and  squared 
between  them. 

SiEVERS.  Ay !  Agreement  with  priests  !  —  When 
the  bishop  saw  he  could  do  no  good,  and  always  got 
the  worst  of  it,  he  pulled  in  his  horns,  and  made  haste 
to  patch  up  a  truce  —  and  honest  Berlichingen  yielded 
to  an  absurd  extent,  as  he  always  does  when  he  has 
the  advantage. 

Metzler.     God  bless  him  !  a  worthy  nobleman. 

SiEVERS.  Only  think !  Was  it  not  shameful  ? 
They  fell  upon  a  page  of  his,  to  his  no  small  surprise ; 
but  they  will  soon  be  mauled  for  that. 

Metzler.  How  provoking  that  his  last  stroke 
should  have  missed.  He  must  have  been  plaguily 
annoyed. 

SiEVERS.  I  don't  think  anything  has  vexed  him  so 
much  for  a  long  time.  Look  you,  all  had  been  calcu- 
lated to  a  nicety :  the  time  the  bishop  would  come 
from  the  bath,  with  how  many  attendants,  and  which 
road ;  and,  had  it  not  been  betrayed  by  some  traitor, 
Goetz  would  have  blessed  his  bath  for  him,  and  rubbed 
him  dry. 

First  Trooper.  What  are  you  prating  there  about 
our  bishop  ?  do  you  want  to  pick  a  quarrel  ? 

SiEVERS.  Mind  your  own  affairs :  you  have  nothing 
to  do  with  our  table. 

Second  Trooper.  Who  taught  you  to  speak  dis- 
respectfully of  our  bishop  ? 

SiEVERS.  Am  I  bound  to  answer  your  questions? 
—  Look  at  the  fool ! 

[The  first  Trooper  boxes  his  ears. 

Metzler.     Smash  the  rascal ! 

[  They  attach  each  other. 

Second  Trooper  {to  Metzler).  Come  on  if  you 
dare  — 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  237 

Innkeeper  {separating  them).  Will  you  be  quiet  ? 
Zounds !  Take  yourself  off  if  you  have  any  scores  to 
settle :  in  my  house  I  will  have  order  and  decency. 
{He  pushes  the  Troopers  out  of  doors)  —  And  what 
are  you  about,  you  jackasses  ? 

Metzler.  No  bad  names,  Hansel!  or  your  sconce 
shall  pay  for  it.  Come,  comrade,  we'll  go  and  thrash 
those  blackguards. 

Enter  two  of  Berlichingen's  Troopers. 

First  Trooper.     What's  the  matter  ? 

Sievers.     Ah  !  Good  day,  Peter  !  —  Good  day,  Veit ! 

—  Whence  come  you  ? 

Second  Trooper.  Mind  you  don't  let  out  whom 
we  serve. 

Sievers  (whispering).  Then,  your  master  Goetz 
isn't  far  off? 

First  Trooper.  Hold  your  tongue !  —  Have  you 
had  a  quarrel  ? 

Sievers.     You  must  have  met  the  fellows  without 

—  they  are  Bambergers. 

First  Trooper.     What  brings  them  here  ? 

Sievers.  They  escort  Weislingen,  who  is  up  yon- 
der at  the  castle  with  the  earl. 

First  Trooper.     Weislingen ! 

Second  Trooper  {aside  to  his  companion).  Peter, 
that  is  grist  to  our  mill —  How  long  has  he  been 
here? 

Metzler.  Two  days ;  but  he  is  off  to-day,  as  I 
heard  one  of  his  fellows  say. 

First  Trooper  {aside).  Did  I  not  tell  you  he  was 
here  ?  —  We  might  have  waited  yonder  long  enough 

—  Come,  Veit  — 

Sievers.     Help  us  first  to  drub  the  Bambergers. 
Second  Trooper.     There  are  already  two  of  you  — 
We  must  away  —    Farewell !    [Uxeunt  both  Troopers. 


238  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

SiEVERS.  Scurvy  dogs,  these  troopers  I  They  won't 
strike  a  blow  without  pay. 

Metzler.  I  could  swear  they  have  something  in 
hand.  —  Whom  do  they  serve  ? 

SiEVERS.     I  am  not  to  tell  —     They  serve  Goetz, 

Metzler.  So  !  —  Well,  now  we'll  cudgel  those 
fellows  outside  —  While  I  have  a  quarter-staff  I  care 
not  for  their  spits. 

SiEVERS.  If  we  durst  but  once  serve  the  princes  in 
the  same  manner,  who  drag  our  skins  over  our  ears ! 

[^Exeunt. 


Scene  II.  —  A  Cottage  in  a  thick  Forest. 

Goetz  von  Berlichingen  discovered  walking  among  the 
trees  before  the  door. 

Goetz.  Where  linger  my  servants  ?  —  I  must  walk 
up  and  down,  or  sleep  will  overcome  me  —  Five  days 
and  nights  already  on  the  watch  —  It  is  hardly 
earned,  this  bit  of  life  and  freedom.  But  when  I  have 
caught  thee,  Weislingen,  I  shall  take  my  ease.  {Fills 
a  glass  of  wine,  and  drinks ;  looks  at  the  flask.)  — 
Again  empty.  —  George  !  —  While  this  and  my  cour- 
age last,  I  can  laugh  at  the  ambition  and  chicanery 
of  princes  !  —  George  !  —  You  may  send  round  your 
obsequious  Weislingen  to  your  uncles  and  cousins 
to  calumniate  my  character  —  Be  it  so  —  I  am  on 
the  alert.  —  Thou  hast  escaped  me,  bishop :  then  thy 
dear  Weislingen  shall  pay  the  score.  —  George  !  — 
Doesn't  the  boy  hear  ?  —  George  !  George  ! 

George  (entering  in  the  cuirass  of  a  full-grown  man). 
Worshipful  sir. 

Goetz.  What  kept  you  ?  Were  you  asleep  ?  — 
What  in  the  Devil's  name  means  this  masquerade?  — 
Come  hither :  you  don't  look  amiss.     Be  not  ashamed, 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  239 

boy  ;  you  look  bravely.  Ah !  if  you  could  but  fill  it ! 
—     Is  it  Hans'  cuirass  ? 

George.  He  wished  to  sleep  a  little,  and  unbuck- 
led it. 

GoETZ.     He  takes  things  easier  than  his  master. 

George.  Do  not  be  angry  !  I  took  it  quietly  away 
and  put  it  on,  then  fetched  my  father's  old  sword  from 
the  wall,  ran  to  the  meadow,  and  drew  it  — 

GoETZ.  And  laid  about  you,  no  doubt  ?  —  Eare 
times  for  the  brambles  and  thorns !  —  Is  Hans 
asleep  ? 

George.  He  started  up  and  cried  out  to  me  when 
you  called  —  I  was  trying  to  unbuckle  the  cuirass 
when  I  heard  you  twice  or  thrice. 

GoETZ.  Go  take  back  his  cuirass,  and  teU  him  to 
be  ready  with  his  horses. 

George.  I  have  fed  them  well,  and  they  are  ready 
bridled  :  you  may  mount  when  you  will. 

Goetz.  Bring  me  a  stoup  of  wine.  Give  Hans  a 
glass  too,  and  tell  him  to  be  on  the  alert  —  there  is 
good  cause :  I  expect  the  return  of  my  scouts  every 
moment. 

George.     Ah  !  noble  sir ! 

Goetz.     What's  the  matter  ? 

George.     May  I  not  go  with  you  ? 

Goetz.  Another  time,  George  —  when  we  waylay 
merchants  and  seize  their  wagons  — 

George.  Another  time  '  —  You  have  said  that  so 
often.  —  Oh,  this  time,  this  time  !  I  will  only  skulk 
behind ;  just  keep  on  the  lookout  —  I  will  gather  up 
all  the  spent  arrows  for  you. 

Goetz.  Next  time,  George  !  —  You  must  first  have 
a  doublet,  a  steel  cap,  and  a  lance. 

George.  Take  me  with  you  now !  —  Had  I  been 
with  you  last  time,  you  would  not  have  lost  your  cross- 
bow. 

Goetz.     Do  you  know  about  that  ? 


2  40  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

George.  You  threw  it  at  your  antagonist's  head : 
one  of  his  followers  picked  it  up,  and  off  with  it  he 
went.     Don't  I  know  about  it  ? 

GoETZ.     Did  my  people  tell  you  ? 

Geokge.  Oh,  yes  !  and  for  that,  I  whistle  them  all 
sorts  of  tunes  while  we  dress  the  horses,  and  teach 
them  merry  songs  too. 

GoETZ.     Thou  art  a  brave  boy. 

Geoege.     Take  me  with  you  to  prove  myself  so. 

GOETZ.  The  next  time,  I  promise  you !  You  must 
not  go  to  battle  unarmed  as  you  are.  There  is  a  time 
coming  which  will  also  require  men.  I  tell  thee,  boy, 
it  will  be  a  dear  time.  Princes  shall  offer  their  treas- 
ures for  a  man  whom  they  now  hate.  Go,  George,  give 
Hans  his  cuirass  again,  and  bring  me  wine.  (Exit 
George.)  Where  can  my  people  be  ?  It  is  incompre- 
hensible !  —  A  monk !     What  brings  him  here  so  late  ? 

Eiiter  Brother  Martin. 

GoETZ.  Good  evening,  reverend  father !  Whence 
come  you  so  late  ?  Man  of  holy  rest,  thou  shamest 
many  knights. 

Martin.  Thanks,  noble  sir !  I  am  at  present  but 
an  unworthy  brother,  if  we  come  to  titles.  My  cloister 
name  is  Augustin ;  but  I  like  better  to  be  called  by  my 
Christian  name,  Martin. 

Goetz.  You  are  tired,  Brother  Martin,  and  doubtless 
thirsty. 

Enter  George  vjitli  wine. 

Goetz.     Here,  in  good  time,  comes  wine. 

Martin.  For  me  a  draught  of  water.  I  dare  not 
drink  wine. 

Goetz.     Is  it  against  your  vow  ? 

Martin.  Noble  sir,  to  dri^ik  wine  is  not  against  my 
vow ;  but  because  tvine  is  against  my  vow,  therefore  I 
drink  it  not. 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  241 

GoETZ.     How  am  I  to  understaud  that  ? 

Martin.  'Tis  well  for  thee  that  thou  dost  not 
understand  it.  Eating  and  drinking  nourish  man's 
life. 

GoETZ.     Well ! 

Martin.  When  thou  hast  eaten  and  drunken,  thou 
art,  as  it  were,  new  born,  stronger,  bolder,  fitter  for 
action.  Wine  rejoices  the  heart  of  man,  and  joyous- 
ness  is  the  mother  of  every  virtue.  When  thou  hast 
drunk  wine,  thou  art  double  what  thou  shouldst  be ! 
twice  as  ingenious,  twice  as  enterprising,  and  twice  as 
active. 

GoETZ.     As  I  drink  it,  what  you  say  is  true. 

Martin.  'Tis  when  thus  taken  in  moderation  that 
I  speak  of  it.     But  we —  [George  brings  water. 

GoETZ  {aside  to  George).  Go  to  the  road  which 
leads  to  Daxbach :  lay  thine  ear  close  to  the  earth,  and 
listen  for  the  tread  of  horses.     Return  immediately. 

Mahtin.  But  we,  on  the  other  hand,  when  we  have 
eaten  and  drunken,  are  the  reverse  of  what  we  should 
be.  Our  sluggish  digestion  depresses  our  mental  pow- 
ers ;  and,  in  the  indulgence  of  luxurious  ease,  desires 
are  generated  which  grow  too  strong  for  our  weak- 
ness. 

GoETZ.  One  glass.  Brother  Martin,  will  not  disturb 
your  sleep.  You  have  travelled  far  to-day.  (liaises 
his  glass.')     Here's  to  all  fighting-men  ! 

Martin.  With  all  my  heart.  {Tliey  ring  their 
glasses.)  I  cannot  abide  idle  people  —  yet  will  I  not  say 
that  all  monks  are  idle ;  they  do  what  they  can :  I  am 
just  come  from  St.  Bede,  where  I  slept  last  night.  The 
prior  took  me  into  the  garden :  that  is  their  hive.  Ex- 
cellent salad,  cabbages  in  perfection,  and  such  cauli- 
flowers and  artichokes  as  you  will  hardly  find  in  Europe. 

GoETZ.     So  that  is  not  the  life  for  you  ? 

\_Goes  out,  and  looks  anxiously  after  the  hoy.    Returns. 

Martin.     Would  that  God  had  made  me  a  gardener 


242  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

or  day-labourer  !  I  might  then  have  been  happy  !  My 
convent  is  Erfurt  in  Saxony :  my  abbot  loves  me ;  he 
knows  I  cannot  remain  idle  ;  and  so  he  sends  me  round 
the  country,  wherever  there  is  business  to  be  done.  I 
am  on  my  way  to  the  Bishop  of  Constance. 

GoETZ.     Another  glass.     Good  speed  to  you  ! 

Martin.     The  same  to  you. 

GoETZ.  Why  do  you  look  at  me  so  steadfastly, 
brother  ? 

Martin.     I  am  in  love  with  your  armour. 

GoETZ.  Would  you  like  a  suit  ?  It  is  heavy  and 
toilsome  to  the  wearer. 

Martin.  What  is  not  toilsome  in  this  world  ?  — 
But  to  me  nothing  is  so  much  so  as  to  renounce  my 
very  nature  !  Poverty,  chastity,  obedience,  —  three 
vows,  each  of  which  taken  singly  seems  the  most 
dreadful  to  humanity  —  so  insupportable  are  they  all ; 
—  and  to  spend  a  lifetime  under  this  burden,  or  to 
groan  despairingly  under  the  still  heavier  load  of  an 
evil  conscience  —  Ah  !  Sir  Knight,  what  are  the  toils 
of  your  life  compared  to  the  sorrows  of  a  state,  which, 
from  a  mistaken  desire  of  drawing  nearer  to  the  Deity, 
condemns  as  crimes  the  best  impulses  of  our  nature,  — 
impulses  by  which  we  live,  grow,  and  prosper  ! 

GoETZ.  Were  your  vow  less  sacred,  I  would  give 
you  a  suit  of  armour  and  a  steed,  and  we  would  ride 
out  together. 

Martin.  Would  to  Heaven  my  shoulders  had 
strength  to  bear  armour,  and  my  arm  to  unhorse  an 
enemy !  Poor,  weak  hand,  accustomed  from  infancy 
to  swing  censers,  to  bear  crosses  and  banners  of  peace, 
how  couldst  thou  manage  the  lance  and  falchion  ?  My 
voice,  tuned  only  to  Aves  and  Hallelujahs,  would  be  a 
herald  of  my  weakness  to  the  enemy  ;  while  yours  would 
overpower  him  :  otherwise  no  vows  should  keep  me 
from  entering  an  order  founded  by  the  Creator  himself. 

GoETZ.     To  your  happy  return  !  [Drinks. 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  243 

Maetin.  I  drink  that  only  in  compliment  to  you  ! 
A  return  to  my  prison  must  ever  be  unhappy.  When 
you,  Sir  Knight,  return  to  your  castle,  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  your  courage  and  strength,  which  no 
fatigue  can  overcome ;  when  you,  for  the  first  time,  after 
a  long  absence,  stretch  yourself  unarmed  upon  your 
bed,  secure  from  the  attack  of  enemies,  and  resign 
yourself  to  a  sleep  sweeter  than  the  draught  after  a 
long  thirst,  —  then  can  you  speak  of  happiness. 

GoETZ.     And  accordingly  it  comes  but  seldom ! 

Martin  {loith  growing  ardour).  But,  when  it 
does  come,  it  is  a  foretaste  of  paradise.  Wlien  you 
return  home  laden  with  the  spoils  of  your  enemies,  and 
remember,  "  Such  a  one  I  struck  from  his  horse  ere  he 
could  discharge  his  piece  —  such  another  I  overthrew, 
horse  and  man,"  then  you  ride  to  your  castle,  and  — 

GoETZ.     And  what  ? 

Martin.  And  your  wife  —  [Fills  a  glass.)  To  her 
health  !     (He  wipes  his  eyes)     You  have  one  ? 

GoETZ.     A  virtuous,  noble  wife  ! 

Martin.  Happy  the  man  who  possesses  a  virtuous 
wife :  his  life  is  doubled.  This  blessing  was  denied 
me,  yet  was  woman  the  glory  or  crown  of  creation. 

GoETZ  (aside).  I  grieve  for  him.  The  sense  of  his 
condition  preys  upon  his  heart. 

Enter  George,  hreatJiless. 

George.  My  lord,  my  lord,  I  hear  horses  in  full 
gallop  !  —  two  of  them  —  'Tis  they  for  certain. 

GoETZ.  Bring  out  my  steed :  let  Hans  mount. 
Farewell,  dear  brother,  God  be  with  you.  Be  cheerful 
and  patient.     He  will  give  you  ample  scope. 

Martin.     Let  me  request  your  name. 

GoETZ.     Pardon  me  —  Farewell ! 

[Gives  his  left  hand. 

Martin.  Why  do  you  give  the  left?  —  Am  I  un- 
worthy of  the  knightly  right  hand  ? 


244  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

GoETZ.  Were  you  the  emperor,  you  must  be  satis- 
fied with  this.  My  right  hand,  though  not  useless  in 
combat,  is  unresponsive  to  the  grasp  of  affection.  It  is 
one  with  its  mailed  gauntlet  —  You  see,  it  is  iron  ! 

Martin.  Then  art  thou  Goetz  of  Berlichingen.  I 
thank  thee,  Heaven,  who  hast  shown  me  the  man  whom 
princes  hate,  but  to  whom  the  oppressed  throng !  {He 
takes  his  right  hand.)  Withdraw  not  this  hand :  let 
me  kiss  it. 

Goetz.     You  must  not ! 

Martin.  Let  me,  let  me  —  Thou  hand,  more  worthy 
even  than  the  saintly  rehc  through  which  the  most 
sacred  blood  has  flowed  !  lifeless  instrument,  quickened 
by  the  noblest  spirit's  faith  in  God. 

[Goetz  adjusts  his  helmet,  and  takes  his  lance. 

Martin.  There  was  a  monk  among  us  about  a  year 
ago,  who  visited  you  when  your  hand  was  shot  off  at 
the  siege  of  Landshut.  He  used  to  tell  us  what  you 
suffered,  and  your  grief  at  being  disabled  for  your  pro- 
fession of  arms,  till  you  remembered  having  heard  one 
who  had  also  lost  a  hand,  and  yet  served  long  as  a  gal- 
lant knight  —  I  shall  never  forget  it. 

Enter    the    two    Troopers.      They    speak    apart    with 

Goetz. 

Martin  (co7itinuing).  I  shall  never  forget  his 
words,  uttered  in  the  noblest,  the  most  childlike, 
trust  in  God  :  "  If  I  had  twelve  hands,  what  would 
they  avail  me  without  thy  grace  ?  then  may  I  with 
only  one  —  " 

Goetz.  In  the  wood  of  Haslach,  then.  (Turns  to 
Martin.)     Farewell,  worthy  brother  !     [Umhraces  him. 

Martin.  Forget  me  not,  as  I  never  shall  forget 
thee  !  [Exeunt  Goetz  and  his  Troopers. 

Martin.  How  my  heart  beat  at  the  sight  of  him ! 
He  spoke  not,  yet  my  spirit  recognised  his.  What  rap- 
ture to  behold  a  great  man  ! 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 


245 


Geoege.     Eevereud  sir,  you  will  sleep  here  ? 

Martin.     Can  I  have  a  bed  ? 

George.  No,  sir !  I  know  of  beds  only  by  hearsay  : 
in  our  quarters  there  is  nothing  but  straw. 

Martin.     It  will  serve.     What  is  thy  name  ? 

George.     George,  reverend  sir. 

Martin.  George!  Thou  hast  a  gallant  patron 
saint. 

George.  They  say  he  was  a  trooper :  that  is  what 
I  intend  to  be. 

Martin.  Stop.  {Takes  a  pictu7x  from  his  hreviary, 
and  gives  it  to  him.)  There  behold  him  —  follow  his 
example ;  be  brave,  and  fear  God. 

l^Exit  into  the  cottage. 

George.  Ah  \  what  a  splendid  gray  horse !  If  I 
had  but  one  like  that  —  and  the  golden  armour. 
There  is  an  ugly  dragon.  At  present  I  shoot  nothing 
but  sparrows.  0  St.  George  !  make  me  but  tall  and 
strong ;  give  me  a  lance,  armour,  and  such  a  horse,  aud 
then  let  the  dragons  come  !  \_Exit. 


Scene  III.  —  An  Apartment  in  Jaxthausen,  the  Castle 
of  Goctz  von  Berlichingen. 

Elizabeth,  Maria,  and  Charles  discovered. 

Charles.  Pray,  now,  dear  aunt,  tell  me  again  that 
story  about  the  good  child :  it  is  so  pretty  — 

Maria.  Do  you  tell  it  to  me,  little  rogue !  that  I 
may  see  if  you  have  paid  attention. 

Charles.  Wait,  then,  till  I  think.  —  "  There  was 
once  upon  "  —  Yes  —  "  There  was  once  upon  a  time 
a  child,  and  his  mother  was  sick  :   so  the  child  went 

Maria.  No,  no  !  —  "  Then  his  mother  said,  '  Dear 
child  — ' " 


246  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

Chaeles.     " '  I  am  sick  —  ' " 

Makia.    "  '  And  cannot  go  out  — '  " 

Charles.  "  And  gave  him  money,  and  said,  '  Go 
and  buy  yourself  a  breakfast.'  There  came  a  poor 
man  —  " 

Maria.  "  The  child  went.  There  met  him  an  old 
man  who  was  "  —    Now,  Charles  ! 

Charles.     "  Who  was  —  old  —  " 

Maria.  Of  course.  "  Who  was  hardly  able  to 
walk,  and   said,  '  Dear  child  — '  " 

Charles.  " '  Give  me  something :  I  have  eaten  not 
a  morsel  yesterday  or  to-day.'  Then  the  child  gave 
him  the  money  —  " 

Maria.  "  That  should  have  bought  his  break- 
fast —  " 

Charles.     "  Then  the  old  man  said  —  " 

Maria.  "  Then  the  old  man  took  the  child  by  the 
hand  —  " 

Charles.  "  By  the  hand,  and  said  —  and  became  a 
fine  beautiful  saint  —  and  said  —  '  Dear  child  — ' " 

Maria.  " '  The  Holy  Virgin  rewards  thee  for  thy 
benevolence  through  me ;  whatever  sick  person  thou 
touchest  — ' " 

Charles.  " '  With  thy  hand '"  —  It  was  the  right 
hand,  I  think. 

Maria.     Yes. 

Charles.     " '  He  will  get  well  directly  —  ' " 

Maria.  "  Then  the  child  ran  home,  and  could  not 
speak  for  joy  —  " 

Charles.  "And  fell  upon  his  mother's  neck,  and 
wept  for  joy  —  " 

Maria.  "Then  the  mother  cried,  'What  is  this?' 
and  became" —    Now,  Charles. 

Charles.     "  Became  —  became  —  " 

Maria.  You  do  not  attend  —  "and  became  well. 
And  the  child  cured  kings  and  emperors,  and  became 
so  rich  that  he  built  a  great  abbey." 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  247 

Elizabeth,  I  cannot  understand  why  my  husband 
stays.  He  has  been  away  five  days  and  nights,  and  he 
hoped  to  have  finished  his  adventure  so  quickly. 

Maria.  I  have  long  felt  uneasy.  Were  I  married 
to  a  man  who  continually  incurred  such  danger,  I 
should  die  within  the  first  year. 

Elizabeth.  I  thank  God  that  he  has  made  me  of 
firmer  stuff ! 

Charles.  But  must  my  father  ride  out  if  it  is  so 
dangerous  ? 

Maria.     Such  is  his  good  pleasure. 

Elizabeth.     He  must,  indeed,  dear  Charles  ! 

Charles.     Why  ? 

Elizabeth.  Do  you  not  remember  the  last  time  he 
rode  out,  when  he  brought  you  those  nice  things  ? 

Charles.     Will  he  bring  me  anything  now  ? 

Elizabeth.  I  believe  so.  Listen :  there  was  a 
tailor  at  Stutgard  who  was  a  capital  archer,  and  had 
gained  the  prize  at  Cologne. 

Charles.     Was  it  much  ? 

Elizabeth.  A  hundred  dollars ;  and  afterward  they 
would  not  pay  him. 

Maria.     That  was  naughty,  eh,  Charles  ? 

Charles.     Naughty  people ! 

Elizabeth.  The  tailor  came  to  your  father,  and 
begged  him  to  get  his  money  for  him :  then  your 
father  rode  out,  and  intercepted  a  party  of  merchants 
from  Cologne,  and  kept  them  prisoners  till  they  paid 
the  money.     Would  not  you  have  ridden  out  too  ? 

Charles.  No;  for  one  must  go  through  a  dark, 
thick  wood,  where  there  are  gipsies  and  witches  — 

Elizabeth.     You're  a  fine  fellow  ;  afraid  of  witches  ! 

Maria.  Charles,  it  is  far  better  to  live  at  home  in 
your  castle,  like  a  quiet  Christian  knight.  One  may 
find  opportunities  enough  of  doing  good  on  one's  own 
lands.  Even  the  worthiest  knights  do  more  harm  than 
good  in  their  excursions. 


248  GOETZ   VON   BERLICHINGEN 

Elizabeth.  Sister,  you  know  not  what  you  are 
saying.  —  God  grant  our  boy  may  become  braver  as  he 
grows  up,  and  not  take  after  that  Weislingen,  who  has 
dealt  so  faithlessly  with  my  husband. 

Maria.  We  will  not  judge,  Elizabeth.  My  brother 
is  highly  incensed,  and  so  are  you :  I  am  only  a  spec- 
tator in  the  matter,  and  can  be  more  impartial. 

Elizabeth.     Weislingen  cannot  be  defended. 

Maria.  What  I  have  heard  of  him  has  interested 
me.  —  Even  your  husband  relates  many  instances  of 
his  former  goodness  and  affection.  —  How  happy  was 
their  youth  when  they  were  both  pages  of  honour  to 
the  margrave ! 

Elizabeth.  That  may  be.  But  only  tell  me,  how 
can  a  man  ever  have  been  good  who  lays  snares  for  his 
best  and  truest  friend  ?  who  has  sold  his  services  to 
the  enemies  of  my  husband ;  and  who  strives,  by  in- 
vidious misrepresentations,  to  poison  the  mind  of  our 
noble  emperor,  who  is  so  gracious  to  us  ? 

[A  horn  is  heard. 

Charles.  Papa !  papa !  the  warder  sounds  his 
horn  !     Joy  !  joy  !     Open  the  gate  ! 

Elizabeth.     There  he  comes  with  booty  ! 

Unter  Peter. 

Peter.  We  have  fought  —  we  have  conquered ! 
God  save  you,  noble  ladies! 

Elizabeth.     Have  you  captured  Weislingen  ? 

Peter.     Himself  and  three  followers. 

Elizabeth.     How  came  you  to  stay  so  long  ? 

Peter.  We  lay  in  wait  for  him  between  Nurem- 
berg and  Bamberg ;  but  he  would  not  come,  though 
we  knew  he  had  set  out.  At  length  we  heard  of  his 
whereabouts :  he  had  struck  off  sideways,  and  was 
staying  quietly  with  the  earl  at  Schwarzenberg. 

Elizabeth.  They  would  also  fain  make  the  earl 
my  husband's  enemy. 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  249 

Peter.  I  immediately  told  my  master.  —  Up  and 
away  we  rode  into  the  forest  of  Haslach.  And  it  was 
curious,  that,  while  we  were  riding  along  that  night,  a 
shepherd  was  watching ;  and  five  wolves  fell  upon  the 
flock,  and  attacked  them  stoutly.  Then  my  master 
laughed  and  said,  "  Good  luck  to  us  all,  dear  comrades, 
both  to  you  and  us ! "  And  the  good  omen  overjoyed 
us.  Just  then  Weislingen  came  riding  toward  us  with 
four  attendants  — 

Maria.     How  my  heart  beats ! 

Peter.  My  comrade  and  I,  as  our  master  had  com- 
manded, threw  ourselves  suddenly  on  him,  and  clung 
to  him  as  if  we  had  grown  together,  so  that  he  could 
not  move ;  while  my  master  and  Hans  fell  upon  the 
servants,  and  overpowered  them.  They  were  all  taken, 
except  one  who  escaped. 

Elizabeth.  I  am  curious  to  see  him.  Will  he 
arrive  soon  ? 

Peter.  They  are  riding  through  the  valley,  and 
will  be  here  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 

Maria.  He  is,  no  doubt,  cast  down  and  de- 
jected ? 

Peter.     He  looks  gloomy  enough. 

Maria.     It  will  grieve  me  to  see  his  distress ! 

Elizabeth.  Oh !  I  must  get  food  ready.  You  are, 
no  doubt,  all  hungry  ? 

Peter.     Hungry  enough,  in  truth. 

Elizabeth  {to  Maria).  Take  the  cellar-keys,  and 
bring  the  best  wine.     They  have  deserved  it. 

[Uxit  Elizabeth. 

Charles.     I'll  go  too,  aunt. 

Maria.     Come,  then,  boy. 

[Exeunt  Charles  and  Maria. 

Peter.  He'll  never  be  his  father,  else  he  would 
have  gone  with  me  to  the  stable. 

Enter  Goetz,  Weislingen,  Hans,  and  other  Troopers. 


250  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

GoETZ  (laying  his  helmet  and  sword  on  a  tahle). 
Unbuckle  my  armour,  and  give  me  my  doublet.  Ease 
will  refresh  me.  Brother  Martin,  thou  saidst  truly. 
You  have  kept  us  long  on  the  watch,  Weislingen ! 

[Weislingen  paces  up  and  down  in  silence. 

GoETZ.  Be  of  good  cheer.  Come,  unarm  yourself ! 
Where  are  your  clothes  ?  I  hope  nothing  has  been 
lost.  {To  the  attendants.)  Go,  ask  his  servants  ;  open 
the  baggage,  and  see  that  nothing  is  missing.  Or  I 
can  lend  you  some  of  mine. 

Weislingen.     Let  me  remain  as  I  am  —  it  is  all  one. 

GoETZ.  I  can  give  you  a  handsome  doublet,  but  it 
is  only  of  linen :  it  has  grown  too  tight  for  me.  I 
wore  it  at  the  marriage  of  my  lord  the  palsgrave, 
when  your  bishop  was  so  incensed  at  me.  About  a 
fortnight  before  I  had  sunk  two  of  his  vessels  upon  the 
Main  —  I  was  going  up-stairs  in  the  Stag  at  Heidel- 
berg, with  Franz  von  Sickingen.  Before  you  get  quite 
to  the  top,  there  is  a  landing-place  with  iron  rails  — 
there  stood  the  bishop,  and  gave  his  hand  to  Franz 
as  he  passed,  and  to  me  also  as  I  followed  close  behind 
him.  I  laughed  in  my  sleeve,  and  went  to  the  Land- 
grave of  Hanau,  who  was  always  a  kind  friend  to  me, 
and  said, "  The  bishop  has  given  me  his  hand,  but  I'll 
wager  he  did  not  know  me."  The  bishop  heard  me, 
for  I  was  speaking  loud  on  purpose.  He  came  to  us 
angrily,  and  said,  "  True,  I  gave  thee  my  hand,  because 
I  knew  thee  not."  To  which  I  answered,  "  I  know 
that,  my  lord ;  and  so  here  you  have  your  shake  of  the 
hand  back  again  ! "  The  manikin  grew  red  as  a  turkey- 
cock  with  spite ;  and  he  ran  up  into  the  room,  and 
complained  to  the  Palsgrave  Lewis  and  the  Prince  of 
Nassau.  We  have  laughed  over  the  scene  again  and 
again. 

Weislingen.     I  wish  you  would  leave  me  to  myself. 

GoETZ.  Why  so  ?  I  entreat  you  be  of  good  cheer. 
You  are  my  prisoner,  but  I  will  not  abuse  my  power. 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  251 

Weislingen.  I  have  no  fear  of  that.  That  is  your 
duty  as  a  kuight. 

GoETZ.     And  you  know  how  sacred  it  is  to  me. 

Weislingen.  I  am  your  prisoner  —  the  rest  mat- 
ters not. 

GoETZ.  You  should  not  say  so.  Had  you  been 
taken  by  a  prince,  fettered,  and  cast  into  a  dungeon, 
your  jailer  directed  to  drive  sleep  from  your  eyes  — 

Enter   Sekvants   with   clothes.     Weislingen  unarms 
himself.     Enter  Chakles. 

Chakles.     Good  morrow,  papa  ! 

GoETZ  (kisses  him).  Good  morrow,  boy !  How 
have  you  been  this  long  time  ? 

Charles.  Very  well,  father!  Aunt  says  I  am  a 
good  boy. 

GoETZ.     Does  she  ? 

Charles.     Have  you  brought  me  anything  ? 

GoETZ.     Nothing  this  time. 

Charles.     I  have  learned  a  great  deal. 

GoETZ.     Ay ! 

Charles.     Shall  I  tell  you  about  the  good  child  ? 

GoETZ.     After  dinner. 

Charles.     I  know  something  else  too. 

GoETZ.     What  may  that  be  ? 

Charles.  "Jaxthausen  is  a  village  and  castle  on 
the  Jaxt,  which  has  appertained  in  property  and  herit- 
age for  two  hundred  years  to  the  lords  of  Berlichia- 
gen  —  " 

GoETZ.  Do  you  know  the  Lord  of  Berlichiugen  ? 
(Charles  stares  at  him.  Aside.)  His  learning  is  so 
abstruse  that  he  does  not  know  his  own  father !  To 
whom  does  Jaxthausen  belong  ? 

Charles.  "  Jaxthausen  is  a  village  and  castle  upon 
the  Jaxt  —  " 

GoETZ.  I  did  not  ask  that.  I  knew  every  path, 
pass,  and  ford  about  the  place  before  ever  I  knew  the 


252  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

name  of  the  village,  castle,  or  river.  —  Is  your  mother 
in  the  kitchen  ? 

Charles.  Yes,  papa.  They  are  cooking  a  lamb 
and  turnips. 

GoETZ.     Do  you  know  that  too,  Jack  Turnspit  ? 

Charles.  And  my  aunt  is  roasting  an  apple  for 
me  to  eat  after  dinner  — 

GoETZ.     Can't  you  eat  it  raw  ? 

Charles.     It  tastes  better  roasted. 

GoETZ.  You  must  have  a  tidbit,  must  you  ?  — 
Weislingen,  I  will  be  with  you  immediately.  I  must 
go  and  see  my  wife.  —  Come,  Charles ! 

Charles.     Who  is  that  man  ? 

GoETZ.     Bid  him  welcome.     Tell  him  to  be  merry. 

Charles.  There's  my  hand  for  you,  man !  Be 
merry  —  for  dinner  will  soon  be  ready. 

Weislingen  {takes  up  the  child  and  kisses  him). 
Happy  boy !  that  knowest  no  worse  evil  than  the 
delay  of  dinner.  May  you  Hve  to  have  much  joy  in 
your  son,  Berlichingen ! 

GoETZ.  Where  there  is  most  light  the  shades  are 
deepest.  Yet  I  should  thank  God  for  it.  We'll  see 
what  they  are  about. 

[A'xit  with  Charles  and  Servants. 

Weislingen.  Oh,  that  I  could  but  wake  and  find 
this  all  a  dream !  In  the  power  of  Berhchingen !  — 
from  whom  I  had  scarcely  detached  myself  —  whose 
remembrance  I  shunned  like  fire  —  whom  I  hoped  to 
overpower !  and  he  still  the  old  true-hearted  Goetz ! 
Gracious  God  !  what  will  be  the  end  of  it  ?  Oh,  Adel- 
bert !  Led  back  to  the  very  hall  where  we  played  as 
children ;  when  thou  didst  love  and  prize  him  as  thy 
soul !  Who  can  know  him  and  hate  him  ?  Alas  !  I 
am  so  thoroughly  insignificant  here.  Happy  days !  ye 
are  gone.  There,  in  his  chair  by  the  chimney,  sat  old 
Berlichingen,  while  we  played  around  him,  and  loved 
each   other  like   cherubs !     How  anxious  the  bishop 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  253 

and  all  my  friends  will  be  !  Well,  the  whole  country 
will  sympathise  with  my  misfortune.  But  what  avails 
it  ?     Can  they  give  me  the  peace  after  which  I  strive  ? 

Reenter  Goetz  with  wine  and  goblets. 

GOETZ.  We'll  take  a  glass  while  dinner  is  prepar- 
ing. Come,  sit  down  —  think  yourself  at  home ! 
Fancy  you've  once  more  come  to  see  Goetz.  It  is 
long  since  we  have  sat  and  emptied  a  flagon  together. 
[Lifts  his  glass.)     Come  :   a  light  heart ! 

Weislingen.     Those  times  are  gone  by. 

Goetz.  God  forbid !  To  be  sure,  we  shall  hardly 
pass  more  pleasant  days  than  those  we  spent  together 
at  the  margrave's  court,  when  we  were  inseparable 
night  and  day.  I  think  with  pleasure  on  my  youth. 
Do  you  remember  the  scuflfie  I  had  with  the  Polander, 
whose  pomaded  and  frizzled  hair  I  chanced  to  rub  with 
my  sleeve  ? 

Weislingen.  It  was  at  table ;  and  he  struck  at 
you  with  a  knife. 

*  Goetz.  I  gave  it  him,  however ;  and  you  had  a 
quarrel  upon  that  account  with  his  comrades.  We 
always  stuck  together  like  brave  fellows,  and  were  the 
admiration  of  every  one.  {^Raises  his  glass.)  Castor 
and  Pollux !  It  used  to  rejoice  my  heart  when  the 
margrave  so  called  us. 

Weislingen.  The  Bishop  of  Wurtzburg  first  gave 
us  the  name. 

Goetz.  That  bishop  was  a  learned  man,  and  withal 
so  kind  and  gentle.  I  shall  remember  as  long  as  I 
live  how  he  used  to  caress  us,  praise  our  friendship, 
and  say,  "  Happy  is  the  man  who  is  his  friend's  twin 
brother." 

Weislingen.     No  more  of  that. 

Goetz.  Why  not  ?  I  know  nothing  more  dehght- 
ful  after  fatigue  than  to  talk  over  old  times.  Indeed, 
when  I  recall  to  mind  how  we  bore  good  and  bad  for- 


254  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

tune  together,  and  were  all  in  all  to  each  other,  and 
how  I  thought  this  was  to  continue  for  ever  !  Was 
not  that  my  sole  comfort  when  my  hand  was  shot 
away  at  Landshut,  and  you  nursed  and  tended  me  hke 
a  brother  ?  I  hoped  Adelbert  would  in  future  be  my 
right  hand.     And  now  — 

Weislingen.     Alas ! 

GoETZ.  Hadst  thou  but  listened  to  me  when  I 
begged  thee  to  go  with  me  to  Brabant,  all  would  have 
been  well.  But  then  that  unhappy  turn  for  court- 
dangling  seized  thee,  and  thy  coquetting  and  flirting 
with  the  women.  I  always  told  thee,  when  thou 
wouldst  mix  with  these  lounging,  vain  court  syco- 
phants, and  entertain  them  with  gossip  about  unlucky 
matches  and  seduced  girls,  scandal  about  absent 
friends,  and  all  such  trash  as  they  take  interest  in,  — 
I  always  said,  Adelbert,  thou  wilt  become  a  rogue ! 

Weislingen.     To  what  purpose  is  all  this  ? 

GoETZ.  Would  to  God  I  could  forget  it,  or  that  it 
were  otherwise !  Art  not  thou  free  and  nobly  born  as 
any  in  Germany ;  independent,  subject  to  the  emperor 
alone  ;  and  dost  crouch  among  vassals  ?  What  is  the 
bishop  to  thee  ?  Granted,  he  is  thy  neighbour,  and 
can  do  thee  a  shrewd  turn ;  hast  thou  not  power  and 
friends  to  requite  him  in  kind  ?  Art  thou  ignorant  of 
the  dignity  of  a  free  knight,  who  depends  only  upon 
God,  the  emperor,  and  himself,  that  thou  degradest 
thyself  to  be  the  courtier  of  a  stubborn,  jealous  priest  ? 

Weislingen.     Let  me  speak  ! 

GoETZ.     What  hast  thou  to  say  ? 

Weislingen.  You  look  upon  the  princes  as  the 
wolf  upon  the  shepherd.  And  can  you  blame  them 
for  defending  their  territories  and  property  ?  Are  they 
a  moment  secure  from  the  unruly  knights,  who  plun- 
der their  vassals  even  upon  the  highroads,  and  sack 
their  castles  and  villages  ?  Upon  the  other  hand,  our 
country's  enemies  threaten  to  overrun  the  lands  of  our 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  255 

beloved  emperor ;  yet,  while  he  needs  the  princes' 
assistance,  they  can  scarce  defend  their  own  lives :  is 
it  not  our  good  genius  which  at  this  moment  leads 
them  to  devise  means  of  procuring  peace  for  Germany, 
of  securing  the  administration  of  justice,  and  giving  to 
great  and  small  the  blessings  of  quiet  ?  And  can  you 
blame  us,  Berlichingen,  for  securing  the  protection  of 
the  powerful  princes,  our  neighbours,  whose  assistance 
is  at  hand,  rather  than  relying  on  that  of  the  emperor, 
who  is  so  far  removed  from  us,  and  is  hardly  able  to 
protect  himself? 

GoETZ.  Yes,  yes,  I  understand  you.  Weislingen, 
were  the  princes  as  you  paint  them,  we  should  all 
have  what  we  want.  Peace  and  quiet !  No  doubt ! 
Every  bird  of  prey  naturally  likes  to  eat  its  plunder 
undisturbed.  The  general  weal !  If  they  would  but 
take  the  trouble  to  study  that.  And  they  trifle  with 
the  emperor  shamefully.  Every  day  some  new  tinker 
or  other  comes  to  give  his  opinion.  The  emperor 
means  well,  and  would  gladly  put  things  to  rights ; 
but  because  he  happens  to  understand  a  thing  readily, 
and,  by  a  single  word,  can  put  a  thousand  hands  into 
motion,  he  thinks  everything  will  be  as  speedily  and 
as  easily  accomplished.  Ordinance  upon  ordinance  is 
promulgated,  each  nullifying  the  last;  while  the 
princes  obey  only  those  which  serve  their  own  inter- 
est, and  prate  of  peace  and  security  of  the  empire, 
while  they  are  treading  under  foot  their  weaker  neigh- 
bours. I  will  be  sworn,  many  a  one  thanks  God  in 
his  heart  that  the  Turk  keeps  the  emperor  fully 
employed ! 

Weislingen.     You  view  things  your  own  way. 

GoETZ.  So  does  every  one.  The  question  is,  which 
is  the  right  way  to  view  them  ?  And  your  plans  at 
least  shun  the  day. 

Weislingen.  You  may  say  what  you  will:  I  am 
your  prisoner. 


256  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

GoETZ.  If  your  conscience  is  free,  so  are  you.  How 
was  it  with  the  general  tranquillity  ?  I  remember 
going,  as  a  boy  of  sixteen,  with  the  margrave  to  the 
Imperial  Diet.  What  harangues  the  princes  made ! 
And  the  clergy  were  the  most  vociferous  of  all.  Your 
bishop  thundered  into  the  emperor's  ears  his  regard  for 
justice,  till  one  thought  it  had  become  part  and  parcel 
of  his  being.  And  now  he  has  imprisoned  a  page  of 
mine,  at  a  time  when  our  quarrels  were  all  accommo- 
dated, and  I  had  buried  them  in  oblivion.  Is  not  all 
settled  between  us  ?  Wliat  does  he  want  with  the 
boy  ? 

Weislingen.     It  was  done  without  his  knowledge. 

GoETZ.     Then,  why  does  he  not  release  him  ? 

Weislingen.  He  did  not  conduct  himself  as  he 
ought. 

GoETZ.  Not  conduct  himself  as  he  ought !  By  my 
honour  he  performed  his  duty,  as  surely  as  he  has  been 
imprisoned  both  with  your  knowledge  and  the  bishop's ! 
Do  you  think  I  am  come  into  the  world  this  very  day, 
that  I  cannot  see  what  all  this  means  ? 

Weislingen.     You  are  suspicious,  and  do  us  wrong. 

GoETZ.  Weishngen,  shall  I  deal  openly  with  you  ? 
Inconsiderable  as  I  am,  I  am  a  thorn  in  your  side,  and 
Selbitz  and  Sickingen  are  no  less  so,  because  we  are 
firmly  resolved  to  die  sooner  than  to  thank  any  one 
but  God  for  the  air  we  breathe,  or  pay  homage  to  any 
one  but  the  emperor.  This  is  why  they  worry  me  in 
every  possible  way,  blacken  my  character  with  the 
emperor,  and  among  my  friends  and  neighbours,  and 
spy  about  for  advantage  over  me.  They  would  have 
me  out  of  the  way  at  any  price ;  that  was  your  reason 
for  imprisoning  the  page  whom  you  knew  I  had  des- 
patched for  intelligence :  and  now  you  say  he  did  not 
conduct  himself  as  he  should  do,  because  he  would 
not  betray  my  secrets.  And  you,  Weislingen,  are  their 
tool! 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  257 

Weislingen.     Berlichingen ! 

GoETZ.  Not  a  word  more.  I  am  an  enemy  to  long 
explanations :  they  deceive  either  the  maker  or  the 
hearer,  and  generally  both. 

Enter  Charles. 

Charles.     Dinner  is  ready,  father  ! 

GoETZ.  Good  news !  Come,  I  hope  the  company 
of  my  women  folk  will  amuse  you.  You  always  liked 
the  girls.  Ay,  ay,  they  can  tell  many  pretty  stories 
about  you.      Come !  [^Exeunt. 

Scene  IV.  —  The  Bishop  of  Bamberg's  Palace. 

TJie  Bishop,  the  Abbot  of  Fulda,  Olearius,  Lieb- 
TRAUT,  aiid  Courtiers  at  table.  The  dessert  and 
wine  before  them. 

Bishop.  Are  there  many  of  the  German  nobility 
studying  at  Bologna  ? 

Olearius.  Both  nobles  and  citizens ;  and  I  do  not 
exaggerate  in  saying  that  they  acquire  the  most  bril- 
hant  reputation.  It  is  a  proverb  in  the  university,  — 
"  As  studious  as  a  German  noble."  For  while  the  citi- 
zens display  a  laudable  diligence,  in  order  to  compen- 
sate by  learning  for  their  want  of  birth,  the  nobles 
strive,  with  praiseworthy  emulation,  to  enhance  their 
ancestral  dignity  by  superior  attainments. 

Abbot.     Indeed ! 

Liebtraut.  What  may  one  not  live  to  hear !  We 
hve  and  learn,  as  the  proverb  says.  "  As  studious  as  a 
German  noblo."     I  never  heard  that  before. 

Olearius.  Yes :  they  are  the  admiration  of  the 
whole  university.  Some  of  the  oldest  and  most 
learned  will  soon  be  coming  back  with  their  doctor's 
degree.  The  emperor  will  doubtless  be  happy  to  en- 
trust to  them  the  highest  offices. 


258  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

Bishop.     He  cannot  fail  to  do  so. 

Abbot.  Do  you  know,  for  instance,  a  young  man 
—  a  Hessian  ?  — 

Olearius.     There  are  many  Hessians  with  us. 

Abbot.  His  name  is  —  is  —  Does  nobody  remem- 
ber it  ?  His  mother  was  a  Von  —  Oh !  his  father 
had  but  one  eye,  and  was  a  marshal  — 

LiEBTRAUT.     Von  Wildenholz ! 

Abbot.     Eight.     Von  Wildenholz. 

Olearius.  I  know  him  well.  A  young  man  of 
great  abilities.  He  is  particularly  esteemed  for  his 
talent  in  disputation. 

Abbot.     He  has  that  from  his  mother. 

LiEBTRAUT.  Yes  ;  but  his  father  would  never  praise 
her  for  that  quality. 

Bishop.  How  call  you  the  emperor  who  wrote  your 
"  Corpus  Juris  ? " 

Olearius.     Justinian. 

Bishop.     A  worthy  prince  :  —  here's  to  his  memory  ! 

Olearius.     To  his  memory  !  \_They  drink. 

Abbot.     That  must  be  a  fine  book. 

Olearius.  It  may  be  called  a  book  of  books ;  a 
digest  of  all  laws ;  there  you  find  the  sentence  ready 
for  every  case ;  and,  where  the  text  is  antiquated  or 
obscure,  the  deficiency  is  supphed  by  notes,  with  which 
the  most  learned  men  have  enriched  this  truly  admi- 
rable work. 

Abbot.  A  digest  of  all  laws  !  —  Indeed  !  —  Then 
the  Ten  Commandments  must  be  in  it. 

Olearius.     Implicite  ;  not  explicit^. 

Abbot.  That's  what  I  mean :  plainly  set  down, 
without  any  explication. 

Bishop.  But  the  best  is,  you  tell  us  that  a  state 
can  be  maintained  in  the  most  perfect  tranquillity  and 
subordination  by  receiving  and  rightly  following  that 
statute-book. 

Olearius.     Doubtless. 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  259 

Bishop.     All  doctors  of  laws  !  \,They  drink. 

Olearius.  I'll  tell  them  of  this  abroad.  {They 
drink.)  Would  to  heaven  that  men  thought  thus  in 
my  country. 

Abbot.     Whence  come  you,  most  learned  sir  ? 

Olearius.  Erom  Frankfort,  at  your  Eminence's 
service ! 

Bishop.  You  gentlemen  of  the  law,  then,  are  not 
held  in  high  estimation  there  ?  —  How  comes  that  ? 

Olearius.  It  is  strange  enough  —  when  I  last  went 
there  to  collect  my  father's  effects,  the  mob  almost 
stoned  me  when  they  heard  I  was  a  lawyer. 

Abbot.     God  bless  me  ! 

Olearius.  It  is  because  their  tribunal,  which  they 
hold  in  great  respect,  is  composed  of  people  totally 
ignorant  of  the  Eoman  law.  An  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  the  internal  condition  of  the  town,  and  also 
of  its  foreign  relations,  acquired  through  age  and  expe- 
rience, is  deemed  a  sufficient  qualification.  They  de- 
cide according  to  certain  established  edicts  of  their  own, 
and  some  old  customs  recognised  in  the  city  and  neigh- 
bourhood. 

Abbot.     That's  very  right. 

Olearius.  But  far  from  sufficient.  The  hfe  of 
man  is  short,  and  in  one  generation  cases  of 
every  description  cannot  occur :  our  statute-book  is  a 
collection  of  precedents,  furnished  by  the  experience 
of  many  centuries.  Besides,  the  wills  and  opinions  of 
men  are  variable :  one  man  deems  right  to-day,  what 
another  disapproves  to-morrow ;  and  confusion  and 
injustice  are  the  inevitable  results.  Law  determines 
absolutely,  and  its  decrees  are  immutable. 

Abbot.     That's  certainly  better. 

Olearius.  But  the  common  people  won't  acknowl- 
edge that ;  and,  eager  as  they  are  after  novelty,  they 
hate  any  innovation  in  their  laws  which  leads  them 
out  of  the  beaten  track,  be  it  ever  so  much  for  the 


26o  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

better.  They  hate  a  jurist  as  if  he  were  a  cutpurse 
or  a  subverter  of  the  state,  and  become  furious  if  one 
attempts  to  settle  among  them. 

LiEBTEAUT.  You  come  from  Frankfort  ?  —  I  know 
the  place  well  —  we  tasted  your  good  cheer  at  the 
emperor's  coronation.  You  say  your  name  is  Olearius 
—  I  know  no  one  in  the  town  of  your  name. 

Olearius.  My  father's  name  was  Oilman  —  But, 
after  the  example  and  with  the  advice  of  many  jurists, 
I  have  Latinised  the  name  to  Olearius,  for  the  decora- 
tion of  the  title-page  of  my  legal  treatises. 

LiEBTRAUT.  You  did  well  to  translate  yourself :  a 
prophet  is  not  honoured  in  his  own  country  —  in  your 
native  guise  you  might  have  shared  the  same  fate. 

Olearius.     That  was  not  the  reason. 

LiEBTRAUT.     All  things  have  two  reasons. 

Abbot.  A  prophet  is  not  honoured  in  his  own 
country. 

LiEBTRAUT.  But  do  you  know  why,  most  reverend 
sir? 

Abbot.     Because  he  was  born  and  bred  there. 

LiEBTRAUT.  Well,  that  may  be  one  reason.  The 
other  is,  because,  upon  a  nearer  acquaintance  with 
these  gentlemen,  the  halo  of  glory  and  honour  shed 
around  them  by  the  distant  haze  totally  disappears : 
they  are  then  seen  to  be  nothing  more  than  tiny 
rushlights ! 

Olearius.  It  seems  you  are  placed  here  to  tell 
pleasant  truths. 

LiEBTRAUT.  As  I  have  wit  enough  to  discover  them, 
I  do  not  lack  courage  to  utter  them. 

Olearius.  Yet  you  lack  the  art  of  applying  them 
well. 

LiEBTRAUT.  It  is  no  matter  where  you  place  a  cup- 
ping-glass, provided  it  draws  blood. 

Olearius.  Barbers  are  known  by  their  dress,  and 
no  one  takes   offence  at  their  scurvy  jests.     Let  me 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  2C1 

advise  you,  as  a  precaution,  to  bear  the  badge  of  your 
order,  —  a  cap  and  bells  ! 

LiEBTRAUT.  Where  did  you  take  your  degree  ?  I 
only  ask,  so  that,  should  I  ever  take  a  fancy  to  a  fool's 
cap,  I  could  at  once  go  to  the  right  shop. 

Olearius.     You  carry  face  enough. 

LiEBTRAUT.     And  you  paunch. 

\_Thc  Bishop  and  Abbot  laugh. 

Bishop.  Not  so  warm,  gentlemen !  —  Some  other 
subject.  At  table  all  should  be  fair  and  quiet.  Choose 
another  subject,  Liebtraut. 

LiEBTRAUT.  Opposite  Frankfort  lies  a  village  called 
Sachsenhausen  — 

Olearius  {to  the  Bishop).  What  nev^^s  of  the 
Turkish  expedition,  your  Excellency  ? 

Bishop.  The  emperor  has  most  at  heart,  first  of  all 
to  restore  peace  to  the  empire,  put  an  end  to  feuds,  and 
secure  the  strict  administration  of  justice  :  then,  accord- 
ing to  report,  he  will  go  in  person  against  the  enemies 
of  his  country  and  of  Christendom.  At  present  inter- 
nal dissensions  give  him  enough  to  do  ;  and  the  empire, 
despite  half  a  hundred  treaties  of  peace,  is  one  scene  of 
murder.  Franconia,  Swabia,  the  Upper  Ehine,  and  the 
surrounding  countries  are  laid  waste  by  presumptuous 
and  reckless  nights.  —  And  here,  at  Bamberg,  Sickin- 
gen,  Selbitz  with  one  leg,  and  Goetz  with  the  iron  hand, 
scoff  at  the  imperial  authority. 

Abbot.  If  his  Majesty  does  not  exert  himself,  these 
fellows  will  at  last  thrust  us  into  sacks. 

Liebtraut.  He  would  be  a  sturdy  fellow  indeed 
who  should  thrust  the  wine-butt  of  Fulda  into  a  sack ! 

Bishop.  Goetz  especially  has  been  for  many  years 
my  mortal  foe,  and  annoys  me  beyond  description. 
But  it  will  not  last  long,  I  hope.  The  emperor  holds 
his  court  at  Augsburg.  We  have  taken  our  measures, 
and  cannot  fail  of  success.  —  Doctor,  do  you  know 
Adelbert  von  Weishngen  ? 


262  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

Olearius.     No,  your  Eminence. 

Bishop.  If  you  stay  till  his  arrival,  you  will  have 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  a  most  noble,  accomphshed,  and 
gallant  knight. 

Olearius.  He  must  be  an  excellent  man  indeed  to 
deserve  such  praises  from  such  a  mouth. 

LiEBTRAUT.  And  yet  he  was  not  bred  at  any  uni- 
versity. 

Bishop.  We  know  that.  (^Tlie  attendants  throng  to 
the  window.')      What's  the  matter  ? 

Attendant.  Farber,  Weislingen's  servant,  is  riding 
in  at  the  castle-gate. 

Bishop.  See  what  he  brings.  He  most  hkely  comes 
to  announce  his  master. 

[Exit  LiEBTRAUT.     They  stand  up  and  drink. 

LiEBTRAUT  reenters. 

Bishop.     What  news  ? 

LiEBTRAUT.  I  wish  another  had  to  tell  it  —  Weis- 
hngen  is  a  prisoner. 

Bishop.     What  ? 

LiEBTRAUT.  Berlichingen  has  seized  him  and  three 
troopers  near  Haslach  —     One  is  escaped  to  tell  you.  . 

Abbot.     A  Job's  messenger ! 

Olearius.     I  grieve  from  my  heart. 

Bishop.  I  will  see  the  servant :  bring  him  up  —  I 
will  speak  with  him  myself.  Conduct  him  into  my 
cabinet.  {Exit  Bishop. 

Abbot  {sitting  down).    Another  draught,  however. 

[  Tlie  Servants  fill  round. 

Olearius.  Will  not  your  Reverence  take  a  turn  in 
the  garden  ?  "  Post  coenam  stabis,  sen  passus  mille 
meabis." 

LiEBTRAUT.  In  truth,  sitting  is  unhealthy  for  you. 
You  might  get  an  apoplexy.  {The  Abbot  rises. 
Aside.)  Let  me  but  once  get  him  out  of  doors,  I  will 
give  him  exercise  enougli !  [^Exeunt. 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  263 


Scene  V.  —  Jaxthausen. 

Maria,  Weislingen. 

Maria.  You  love  me,  you  say.  I  willingly  believe 
it,  and  liope  to  be  happy  with  you,  and  make  you 
happy  also. 

Weislingen.  I  feel  nothing  but  that  I  am  entirely 
thine.  [Embraces  her. 

Maria.  Softly  !  —  I  gave  you  one  kiss  for  earnest, 
but  you  must  not  take  possession  of  what  is  only  yours 
conditionally. 

Weislingen.  You  are  too  strict,  Maria  !  Innocent 
love  is  pleasing  in  the  sight  of  Heaven,  instead  of  giving 
offence. 

Maria.  It  may  be  so.  But  I  think  differently ; 
for  I  have  been  taught  that  caresses  are,  like  fetters, 
strong  through  their  union,  and  that  maidens,  when 
they  love,  are  weaker  than  Samson  after  the  loss  of  his 
locks. 

Weislingen.     Who  taught  you  so  ? 

Maria.  The  abbess  of  my  convent.  Till  my  six- 
teenth year  I  was  with  her  —  and  it  is  only  with  you 
that  I  enjoy  happiness  like  that  her  company  afforded 
me.  She  had  loved,  and  could  tell  —  She  had  a  most 
affectionate  heart.     Oh  !  she  was  an  excellent  woman  ! 

Weislingen.  Then  you  resemble  her.  (Takes  her 
hand.)  What  will  become  of  me  when  I  am  com- 
pelled to  leave  you  ? 

Maria  (withdrawing  her  hand).  You  will  feel  some 
regret,  I  hope ;  for  I  know  what  my  feelings  will  be. 
But  you  must  away  ! 

Weislingen.  I  know  it,  dearest ;  and  I  will  —  for 
well  I  feel  what  happiness  I  shall  purchase  by  this 
sacrifice !  Now,  blessed  be  your  brother,  and  the  day 
on  which  he  rode  out  to  capture  me ! 


264  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

Maria.  His  heart  was  full  of  hope  for  you  and 
himself.  "  Farewell,"  he  said  at  his  departure  :  "  I  go 
to  recover  my  friend." 

Weislingen.  That  he  has  done.  Would  that  I  had 
studied  the  arrangement  and  security  of  my  property, 
instead  of  neglecting  it,  and  dallying  at  that  worthless 
court !  —  then  couldst  thou  have  been  instantly  mine. 

Maria.     Even  delay  has  its  pleasures. 

Weislingen.  Say  not  so,  Maria,  else  I  shall  fear 
that  thy  heart  is  less  warm  than  mine.  True,  I  deserve 
punishment ;  but  what  hopes  will  brighten  every  step 
of  my  journey !  To  be  wholly  thine,  to  live  only  for 
thee  and  thy  circle  of  friends  —  far  removed  from  the 
world,  in  the  enjoyment  of  all  the  raptures  which  two 
hearts  can  mutually  bestow.  What  is  the  favour  of 
princes,  what  the  applause  of  the  universe,  to  such 
simple  yet  unequalled  felicity  ?  Many  have  been  my 
hopes  and  wishes,  but  this  happiness  surpasses  them  all. 

Enter  Goetz. 

GoETZ.  Your  page  has  returned.  He  can  scarcely 
utter  a  word  for  hunger  and  fatigue.  My  wife  has 
ordered  him  some  refreshment.  Thus  much  I  have 
gathered:  the  bishop  will  not  give  up  my  page  — 
imperial  commissioners  are  to  be  appointed,  and  a  day 
named,  upon  which  the  matter  may  be  adjusted.  Be 
that  as  it  may,  Adelbert,  you  are  free.  Pledge  me  but 
your  hand  that  you  will  for  the  future  give  neither  open 
nor  secret  assistance  to  my  enemies. 

Weislingen.  Here  I  grasp  thy  hand.  From  this 
moment  be  our  friendship  and  confidence  firm  and 
unalterable  as  a  primary  law  of  nature !  Let  me  take 
this  hand  also  [takes  Maria's  hand),  and  with  it  the 
possession  of  this  most  noble  lady. 

Goetz.     May  I  say  yes  for  you  ? 

Maria  {ti7nidly).     If  —  if  it  is  your  wish  — 

Goetz.     Happily  our  wishes  do  not  differ  on  this 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  265 

point.  Thou  need'st  not  blush  —  the  glance  of  thine 
eye  betrays  thee.  Well,  then,  Weislingen,  join  hands ; 
and  I  say  Amen  !  My  friend  and  brother !  I  thank 
thee,  sister :  thou  canst  do  more  than  spin  flax,  for 
thou  hast  drawn  a  thread  which  can  fetter  this  wander- 
ing bird  of  paradise.  Yet  you  look  not  quite  at  your 
ease,  Adelbert.  What  troubles  you  ?  /  am  perfectly 
happy  !  What  I  but  hoped  in  a  dream,  I  now  see  with 
my  eyes,  and  feel  as  though  I  were  still  dreaming. 
Now  my  dream  is  explained.  I  thought  last  night, 
that,  in  token  of  reconciliation,  I  gave  you  this  iron 
hand,  and  that  you  held  it  so  fast  that  it  broke  away 
from  my  arm :  I  started,  and  awoke.  Had  I  but 
dreamed  a  little  longer,  I  should  have  seen  how  you 
gave  me  a  new  Hving  hand.  You  must  away  this 
instant,  to  put  your  castle  and  property  in  order.  That 
cursed  court  has  made  you  neglect  both.  I  must  call 
my  wife.  —  EUzabeth  ! 

Makia.     How  overjoyed  my  brother  is  ! 

Weislingen.     Yet  I  am  still  more  so. 

GoETZ  {to  Maria).  You  will  have  a  pleasant  residence. 

Maria.     Franconia  is  a  fine  country. 

Weislingen.  And  I  may  venture  to  say  that  my 
castle  lies  in  the  most  fertile  and  delicious  part  of  it. 

GoETZ.  That  you  may,  and  I  can  confirm  it.  Look 
you,  here  flows  the  Main,  round  a  hill  clothed  with 
corn-fields  and  vineyards,  its  top  crowned  with  a  Gothic 
castle :  then  the  river  make  a  sharp  turn,  and  glides 
round  behind  the  rock  on  which  the  castle  is  built. 
The  windows  of  the  great  hall  look  perpendicularly 
down  upon  the  river,  and  command  a  prospect  of  many 
miles  in  extent. 

Enter  Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth.     What  are  ye  about  ? 
GoETZ.     You,  too,  must  give  your  hand,  and  say, 
God  bless  you !     They  are  a  pair. 


266  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

Elizabeth.     So  soon  ? 

GoETZ.     But  not  unexpectedly. 

Elizabeth.  May  you  ever  adore  her  as  ardently  as 
while  you  sought  her  hand !  And  then,  as  your  love, 
so  be  your  happiness  ! 

Weislingen,  Amen !  I  seek  no  happiness  but  on 
this  condition. 

Goetz.  The  bridegroom,  my  love,  must  leave  us 
for  awhile ;  for  this  great  change  will  involve  many 
smaller  ones.  He  must  first  withdraw  himself  from 
the  bishop's  court,  in  order  that  their  friendship  may 
gradually  cool.  Then  he  must  rescue  his  property 
from  the  hands  of  selfish  stewards,  and  .  .  .  But  come, 
sister ;  come,  Elizabeth ;  let  us  leave  him ;  his  page 
has,  no  doubt,  private  messages  for  him. 

Weislingen.     Nothing  but  what  you  may  hear. 

Goetz.  'Tis  needless.  Eranconians  and  Swabians ! 
Ye  are  now  more  closely  united  than  ever.  Now  we 
shall  be  able  to  keep  the  princes  in  check. 

[^Exeunt   Goetz,  Elizabeth,  Maria. 

Weislingen  {alone).  God  in  heaven  !  And  canst 
thou  have  reserved  such  happiness  for  one  so  un- 
worthy ?  It  is  too  much  for  my  heart.  How  meanly 
I  depended  upon  wretched  fools,  whom  I  thought  I 
was  governing,  upon  the  smile  of  princes,  upon  the 
homage  of  those  around  me!  Goetz,  my  faithful  Goetz, 
thou  has  restored  me  to  thyself ;  and  thou,  Maria,  hast 
completed  my  reformation.  I  feel  free,  as  if  brought 
from  a  dungeon  into  the  open  air.  Bamberg  will  I 
never  see  more,  —  will  snap  all  the  shameful  bonds 
that  have  held  me  beneath  myself.  My  heart  expands, 
and  never  more  will  1  degrade  myself  by  struggling  for 
a  greatness  that  is  denied  me.  He  alone  is  great  and 
happy  who  fills  his  own  station  of  independence,  and 
has  neither  to  command  nor  to  obey. 

Enter  Francis. 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  267 

Francis.  God  save  you,  noble  sir !  I  bring  you  so 
many  salutations  that  I  know  not  where  to  begin. 
Bamberg,  and  ten  miles  around,  cry  with  a  thousand 
voices,  God  save  you  ! 

Weislingen.  Welcome,  Francis !  Bring'st  thou 
aught  else  ? 

Francis.  You  are  held  in  such  consideration  at 
court  that  it  cannot  be  expressed. 

Weislingen.     That  will  not  last  long. 

Francis.  As  long  as  you  live ;  and  after  your  death 
it  will  shine  with  more  lustre  than  the  brazen  char- 
acters on  a  monument.  How  they  took  your  mis- 
fortune to  heart ! 

Weislingen.     And  what  said  the  bishop  ? 

Francis.  His  eager  curiosity  poured  out  question 
upon  question,  without  giving  me  time  to  answer.  He 
knew  of  your  accident  already  ;  for  Fiirber,  who  escaped 
from  Haslach,  had  brought  him  the  tidings.  But  he 
wished  to  hear  every  particular.  He  asked  so  anx- 
iously whether  you  were  wounded.  I  told  him  you 
were  whole,  from  the  hair  of  your  head  to  the  nail  of 
your  httle  toe. 

Weislingen.     And  what  said  he  to  the  proposals  ? 

Francis.  He  was  ready  at  first  to  give  up  the  page 
and  a  ransom  to  boot  for  your  Uberty.  But  when  he 
heard  you  were  to  be  dismissed  without  ransom,  and 
merely  to  give  your  parole  that  the  boy  should  be  set 
free,  he  was  for  putting  off  Berlichingen  with  some 
pretence.  He  charged  me  with  a  thousand  messages 
to  you,  more  than  I  can  ever  utter.  Oh,  how  he  ha- 
rangued !  It  was  a  long  sermon  upon  the  text,  "  I  can- 
not live  without  Weislingen  !" 

Weislingen.     He  must  learn  to  do  so. 

Francis.  What  mean  you  ?  He  said,  "  Bid  him 
hasten :    all  the  court  waits  for  him." 

Weislingen.  Let  them  wait  on.  I  shall  not  go  to 
court. 


268  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

Fkancis.  Not  go  to  court !  My  gracious  lord,  how 
come  you  to  say  so  ?  If  you  knew  what  I  know,  could 
you  but  dream  what  I  have  seen  — 

Weislingen.     What  ails  thee  ? 

Fkancis.  The  bare  remembrance  takes  away  my 
senses.  Bamberg  is  no  longer  Bamberg.  An  angel  of 
heaven,  in  semblance  of  woman,  has  taken  up  her 
abode  there,  and  has  made  it  a  paradise. 

Weislingen.     Is  that  all  ? 

Francis.  May  I  become  a  shaven  friar  if  the  first 
ghmpse  of  her  does  not  drive  you  frantic  ! 

Weislingen.     Who  is  it,  then  ? 

Francis.     Adelaide  von  Walldorf. 

Weislingen.  Indeed  !  I  have  heard  much  of  her 
beauty. 

Francis.  Heard !  You  might  as  well  say  I  have 
seen  music.  So  far  is  the  tongue  from  being  able  to 
rehearse  the  shghtest  particle  of  her  beauty,  that  the 
very  eye  which  beholds  her  cannot  drink  it  all  in. 

Weislingen.     You  are  mad. 

Francis.  That  may  well  be.  The  last  time  I  was  in 
her  company  I  had  no  more  command  over  my  senses 
than  if  I  had  been  drunk,  or,  I  may  rather  say,  I  felt 
like  a  glorified  saint  enjoying  the  angelic  vision  !  All 
my  senses  exalted,  more  lively  and  more  perfect  than 
ever,  yet  not  one  at  its  owner's  command. 

Weislingen.     That  is  strange  ! 

Francis.  As  I  took  leave  of  the  bishop,  she  sat  by 
him :  they  were  playing  at  chess.  He  was  very  gra- 
cious, gave  me  his  hand  to  kiss,  and  said  much,  of 
which  I  heard  not  a  syllable ;  for  I  was  looking  on  his 
fair  antagonist.  Her  eye  was  fixed  upon  the  board,  as 
if  meditating  a  bold  move.  —  A  touch  of  subtle  watch- 
fulness around  the  mouth  and  cheek.  I  could  have 
wished  to  be  the  ivory  king.  The  mixture  of  dignity 
and  feeling  on  her  brow  —  and  the  dazzling  lustre  of 
her  face  and  neck,  heightened  by  her  raven  tresses  — 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  269 

Weislingen.  The  theme  has  made  you  quite  po- 
etical. 

Francis.  I  feel  at  this  moment  what  constitutes 
poetic  inspiration,  —  a  heart  altogether  wrapt  in  one 
idea.  As  the  bishop  ended,  and  I  made  my  obeisance, 
she  looked  up,  and  said,  "  Offer  to  your  master  the  best 
wishes  of  an  unknown.  Tell  him  he  must  come  soon. 
New  friends  await  him :  he  must  not  despise  them, 
though  he  is  already  so  rich  in  old  ones."  I  would 
have  answered ;  but  the  passage  betwixt  my  heart  and 
my  tongue  was  closed,  and  I  only  bowed.  I  would 
have  given  all  I  had  for  permission  to  kiss  but  one  of 
her  fingers !  As  I  stood  thus,  the  bishop  let  fall  a 
pawn ;  and,  in  stooping  to  pick  it  up,  I  touched  the 
hem  of  her  garment.  Transport  thrilled  through  my 
limbs,  and  I  scarce  know  how  I  left  the  room. 

Weislingen.     Is  her  husband  at  court  ? 

Francis.  She  has  been  a  widow  these  four  months, 
and  is  residing  at  the  court  of  Bamberg  to  divert  her 
melancholy.  You  will  see  her,  and  to  meet  her  glance 
is  to  bask  in  the  sunshine  of  spring. 

Weislingen.  She  would  not  make  so  strong  an 
impression  on  me. 

Francis.     I  hear  you  are  as  good  as  married. 

Weislingen.  Would  I  were  really  so  !  My  gentle 
Maria  will  be  the  happiness  of  my  life.  The  sweet- 
ness of  her  soul  beams  through  her  mild  blue  eyes ; 
and,  like  an  angel  of  innocence  and  love,  she  guides 
my  heart  to  the  paths  of  peace  and  felicity  !  Pack  up, 
and  then  to  my  castle.  I  will  not  to  Bamberg,  though 
St.  Bede  came  in  person  to  fetch  me. 

[Exit  Weislingen. 

Francis  (alone).  Not  to  Bamberg !  Heavens  forbid  ! 
But  let  me  hope  the  best.  Maria  is  beautiful  and 
amiable,  and  a  prisoner  or  an  invalid  might  easily  fall 
in  love  with  her.  Her  eyes  beam  with  compassion 
and  melancholy  sympathy ;  but  in  thine,  Adelaide,  is 


270  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

life,  fire,  spirit.  I  would  ...  I  am  a  fool :  one  glance 
from  her  has  made  me  so.  My  master  must  to  Bam- 
berg, and  I  also,  and  either  recover  my  senses  or  gaze 
them  quite  away. 


ACT   11. 

Scene  I.  —  Bamlerg.     A  Hall. 

The  Bishop  and  Adelaide  {playing  at  chess),  Lieb- 
TEAUT  (with  a  guitar),  Ladies  and  Courtiers 

(standing  in  groups). 

Liebtraut  (plays  and  sings). 

Armed  with  quiver  and  bow, 

With  his  torch  all  aglow, 

Young  Cupid  comes  winging  his  flight. 

Courage  glows  in  his  eyes, 

As  adown  from  the  skies. 

He  rushes,  impatient  for  fight. 

Up  !  up ! 

On!  on! 

Hark  !  the  bright  quiver  rings  ! 

Hark  !  the  rustle  of  wings  ! 

All  hail  to  the  delicate  sprite  ! 

They  welcome  the  urchin  ;  — 
Ah,  maidens,  beware ! 
He  finds  every  bosom 
Unguarded  and  bare. 
In  the  light  of  his  flambeau 
He  kindles  his  darts  ;  — 
They  fondle  and  hug  him 
And  press  to  their  hearts. 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  271 

Adelaide.  Your  thoughts  are  not  in  your  game. 
Check  to  the  king ! 

Bishop.     There  is  still  a  way  of  escape. 

Adelaide.  You  will  not  be  able  to  hold  out  long. 
Check  to  the  king ! 

LiEBTRAUT.  Were  I  a  great  prince,  I  would  not 
play  at  this  game,  and  would  forbid  it  at  court,  and 
throughout  the  whole  land. 

Adelaide.     'Tis  indeed  a  touchstone  of  the  brain. 

LiEBTRAUT.  Not  on  that  account.  I  would  rather 
hear  a  funeral  bell,  the  cry  of  the  ominous  bird,  the 
howling  of  that  snarling  watch-dog,  conscience, — 
rather  would  I  hear  these  through  the  deepest  sleep, 
than  from  bishops,  knights,  and  such  beasts,  the  eternal 
—  Check  to  the  king  ! 

Bishop.     Into  whose  head  could  such  an  idea  enter  ? 

LiEBTRAUT.  A  man's,  for  example,  endowed  with  a 
weak  body  and  a  strong  conscience,  which,  for  the 
most  part,  indeed,  accompany  each  other.  Chess  is 
called  a  royal  game,  and  is  said  to  have  been  invented 
for  a  king,  who  rewarded  the  inventor  with  a  mine  of 
wealth.  If  this  be  so,  I  can  picture  him  to  myself. 
He  was  a  minor,  either  in  understanding  or  in  years, 
under  the  guardianship  of  his  mother  or  his  wife ;  had 
down  upon  his  chin,  and  flaxen  hair  around  his  temples  ; 
was  pliant  as  a  willow-shoot,  and  liked  to  play  at 
draughts  with  women,  not  from  passion,  God  forbid ! 
only  for  pastime.  His  tutor,  too  active  for  a  scholar, 
too  intractable  for  a  man  of  the  world,  invented  the 
game,  in  usum  Dclphini,  that  was  so  homogeneous 
with  his  Majesty  —  and  so  on. 

Adelaide.  Checkmate!  You  should  fill  up  the 
chasms  in  our  histories,  Liebtraut.  [_They  rise. 

LiEBTRAUT.  To  Supply  those  in  our  family  registers 
would  be  more  profitable.  The  merits  of  our  ancestors, 
as  well  as  their  portraits,  being  available  for  a  common 
object,  namely,  to  cover  the  naked  sides  of  our  cham- 


272  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

bers  and  of  our  characters,  one  might  turn  such  an 
occupation  to  good  account. 

Bishop.     He  will  not  come,  you  say. 

Adelaide,  I  beseech  you,  banish  liim  from  your 
thoughts. 

Bishop.     What  can  it  mean  ? 

LiEBTRAUT.  What !  The  reasons  may  be  told  over 
like  the  beads  of  a  rosary.  He  has  been  seized  with  a 
fit  of  compunction,  of  which  I  could  soon  cure  him. 

Bishop.     Do  so  :  ride  to  him  instantly. 

LiEBTRAUT.     My  commission  — 

Bishop.  Shall  be  unlimited.  Spare  nothing  to 
bring  him  back. 

LiEBTRAUT.  May  I  venture  to  use  your  name, 
gracious  lady  ? 

Adelaide.     With  discretion. 

LiEBTRAUT.     That's  a  vague  commission. 

Adelaide.  Do  you  know  so  little  of  me,  or  are 
you  so  young,  as  not  to  understand  in  what  tone  you 
should  speak  of  me  to  Weislingen  ? 

LiEBTRAUT.  In  the  tone  of  a  fowler's  whistle,  I 
think. 

Adelaide.     You  will  never  come  to  your  senses. 

LiEBTRAUT.     Does  cver  any  one,  gracious  lady  ? 

Bishop.  Go  !  Go  !  Take  the  best  horse  in  my 
stable ;  choose  your  servants,  and  bring  him  hither. 

LiEBTRAUT.  If  I  do  not  conjure  him  hither,  say 
that  an  old  woman  who  charms  warts  and  freckles 
knows  more  of  sympathy  than  I. 

Bishop.  Yet,  what  will  it  avail  ?  Berlichingen  has 
wholly  gained  him  over.  He  will  no  sooner  be  here 
than  he  will  wish  to  return. 

LiEBTRAUT.  Wish,  no  doubt  he  will;  but  will  he 
be  able  ?  A  prince's  squeeze  of  the  hand  and  the 
smiles  of  a  beauty,  from  these  no  Weislingen  can  tear 
himself  away.     I  have  the  honour  to  take  my  leave. 

Bishop.     A  prosperous  journey  ! 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  273 

Adelaide.     Adieu !  [Uxit  Liebtkaut. 

Bishop.  When  once  he  is  here,  I  must  trust  to 
you. 

Adelaide.     Would  you  make  me  your  lime-twig  ? 

Bishop.     By  no  means. 

Adelaide.     Your  call-bird,  then  ? 

Bishop.  No  :  that  is  Liebtraut's  part.  I  beseech 
you  do  not  refuse  to  do  for  me  what  no  other  can. 

Adelaide.     We  shall  see.  [Exeunt. 


Scene   II.  —  Jaxthausen.     A  Hall  in  Goetz's  Castle. 

Enter  Goetz  and  Hans  von  Selbitz. 

Selbitz,  Every  one  will  applaud  you  for  declaring 
feud  against  the  Nurembergers. 

Goetz.  It  would  have  eaten  my  very  heart  away 
had  I  remained  longer  their  debtor.  It  is  clear  that 
they  betrayed  my  page  to  the  Bambergers.  They  shall 
have  cause  to  remember  me. 

Selbitz.     They  have  an  old  grudge  against  you. 

Goetz.  And  I  against  them.  I  am  glad  they  have 
begun  the  fray. 

Selbitz.  These  free  towns  have  always  taken  part 
with  the  priests. 

Goetz.     They  have  good  reason. 

Selbitz.     But  we  will  cook  their  porridge  for  them ! 

Goetz.  I  reckon  upon  you.  Would  that  the  Bur- 
gomaster of  Nuremberg,  with  his  gold  chain  round  his 
neck,  fell  in  our  way :  we'd  astonish  him  with  all  his 
cleverness. 

Selbitz.  I  hear  Weislingen  is  again  on  your  side. 
Does  he  really  join  in  our  league  ? 

Goetz.  Not  immediately.  There  are  reasons  which 
prevent  his  openly  giving  us  assistance,  but  for  the 
present  it  is  quite  enough  that  he  is  not  against  us. 


274  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

The  priest  without  him  is  what  the  stole  would  be 
without  the  priest ! 

Selbitz.     When  do  we  set  forward  ? 

GoETZ.  To-morrow  or  next  day.  There  are  mer- 
chants of  Bamberg  and  Nuremberg  returning  from  the 
fair  of  Frankfort  —     We  may  strike  a  good  blow. 

Selbitz.     Let  us  hope  so  ! 


Scene  III.  —  The  Bishop's  Palace  at  Bamherg. 

Adelaide  and  her  Waiting  -  maid. 

Adelaide.  He  is  here,  sayest  thou  ?  I  can  scarce 
beheve  it. 

Maid.  Had  I  not  seen  him  myself,  I  should  have 
doubted  it. 

Adelaide.  The  bishop  should  frame  Liebtraut  in 
gold  for  such  a  masterpiece  of  skill. 

Maid.  I  saw  him  as  he  was  about  to  enter  the 
palace.  He  was  mounted  on  a  gray  charger.  The 
horse  started  when  he  came  on  the  bridge,  and  would 
not  move  forward.  The  populace  thronged  up  the 
street  to  see  him.  They  rejoiced  at  the  delay  of  the 
unruly  horse.  He  was  greeted  on  all  sides,  and  he 
thanked  them  gracefully  all  round.  He  sat  the  cur- 
vetting steed  with  an  easy  indifference,  and  by  threats 
and  soothing  brought  him  to  the  gate,  followed  by 
Liebtraut  and  a  few  servants. 

Adelaide.     What  do  you  think  of  him  ? 

Maid.  I  never  saw  a  man  who  pleased  me  so  well. 
He  is  as  like  that  portrait  of  the  emperor  as  if  he  were 
his  son  (pointing  to  a  picture).  His  nose  is  somewhat 
smaller,  but  just  such  gentle  light-brown  eyes,  just  such 
fine  light  hair,  and  such  a  figure  !  A  half-melancholy 
expression  on  his  face,  I  know  not  how ;  but  he  pleased 
me  so  well. 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  275 

Adelaide.     I  am  curious  to  see  him. 
Maid.     He  would  be  the  husband  for  you ! 
Adelaide.     Foolish  girl ! 
Maid.     Children  and  fools  — 

Enter  Liebtkaut. 

LiEBTKAUT.     Now,  gracious  lady,  what  do  I  deserve  ? 

Adelaide.  Horns  from  your  wife  !  —  for,  judging 
from  the  present  sample  of  your  persuasive  powers, 
you  have  certainly  endangered  the  honour  of  many  a 
worthy  family. 

Liebtkaut.     Not  so,  be  assured,  gracious  lady. 

Adelaide.     How  did  you  contrive  to  bring  him  ? 

LiEBTRAUT.  You  know  how  they  catch  snipes,  and 
why  should  I  detail  my  httle  stratagems  to  you  ?  — 
First,  I  pretended  to  have  heard  nothing,  did  not  under- 
stand the  reason  of  his  behaviour,  and  put  him  upon  the 
disadvantage  of  telling  me  the  whole  story  at  length ; 
then  I  saw  the  matter  in  a  light  altogether  different 
from  what  he  did  —  could  not  find  —  could  not  see, 
and  so  forth ;  then  I  gossiped  things  great  and  small 
about  Bamberg,  and  recalled  to  his  memory  certain  old 
recollections  ;  and,  when  I  had  succeeded  in  occupying 
his  imagination,  I  knitted  together  many  a  broken 
association  of  ideas.  He  knew  not  what  to  say  —  felt 
newly  attracted  to  Bamberg  —  he  would,  and  he  would 
not.  When  I  found  him  begin  to  waver,  and  saw  him 
too  much  occupied  with  his  own  feelings  to  suspect 
my  sincerity,  I  threw  over  his  head  a  halter,  woven  of 
the  three  powerful  cords,  beauty,  court  favour,  and 
flattery,  and  dragged  him  hither  in  triumph. 

Adelaide.     What  said  you  of  me  ? 

LiEBTEAUT.  The  simple  truth,  —  that  you  were  in 
perplexity  about  your  estates,  and  had  hoped,  as  he 
had  so  much  influence  with  the  emperor,  all  would  be 
satisfactorily  settled. 

Adelaide.     'Tis  well. 


276  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

LiEBTRAUT.     The  bishop  will  introduce  him  to  you. 

Adelaide.  I  expect  them.  {Exit  Liebtraut.) 
And  with  such  feelings  have  I  seldom  expected  a 
visitor. 

Scene  IV.  —  Hie  Spessart. 

JEnter  Selbitz,  Goetz,  and  George,  in  the  armour  and 
dress  of  a  trooper, 

Goetz.     So,  thou  didst  not  find  him,  George  ? 

George.  He  had  ridden  to  Bamberg  the  day  before, 
With.  Liebtraut  and  two  servants. 

Goetz.     I  cannot  understand  what  this  means. 

Selbitz.  But  I  do :  your  reconciliation  was  almost 
too  speedy  to  be  lasting.  Liebtraut  is  a  cunning  fel- 
low, and  has,  no  doubt,  inveigled  him  over. 

Goetz.     Think'st  thou  he  will  become  a  traitor  ? 

Selbitz.     The  first  step  is  taken. 

Goetz.  I  can't  believe  it.  Who  knows  what  he 
may  have  to  do  at  court  ?  —  his  affairs  are  not  yet 
settled.     Let  us  hope  for  the  best. 

Selbitz.  Would  to  Heaven  he  may  deserve  of  your 
good  opinion,  and  may  act  for  the  best ! 

Goetz.  A  thought  strikes  me  !  —  We  will  disguise 
George  in  the  spoils  of  the  Bamberg  trooper,  and  fur- 
nish him  with  the  password :  he  may  then  ride  to 
Bamberg,  and  see  how  matters  stand. 

George.     I  have  long  wished  to  do  so. 

Goetz.  It  is  thy  first  expedition.  Be  careful,  boy : 
I  should  be  sorry  if  ill  befeU  thee. 

George.  Never  fear.  I  care  not  how  many  of 
them  crawl  about  me.  I  think  no  more  of  them  than 
of  rats  and  mice.  [^Exeunt. 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  277 


Scene  V.  —  The  Bishop's  Palace.     His  Cabinet. 

TJie  Bishop  and  Weislingen. 

Bishop.     Then,  thou  wilt  stay  no  longer  ? 

Weislingen.  You  would  not  have  me  break  my 
oath. 

Bishop.  I  could  have  wished  thou  hadst  not  sworn 
it.  —  What  evil  spirit  possessed  thee  ?  —  Could  I  not 
have  procured  thy  release  without  that  ?  Is  my  in- 
fluence so  small  in  the  imperial  court  ? 

Weislingen.  The  thing  is  done :  excuse  it  as  you 
can. 

Bishop.  I  cannot  see  that  there  was  the  least 
necessity  for  taking  such  a  step  —     To  renounce  me  ? 

—  Were  there  not  a  thousand  other  ways  of  procuring 
thy  freedom  ?  —  Had  we  not  his  page  ?  And  would 
not  I  have  given  gold  enough  to  boot,  and  thus  satis- 
fied Berlichingen  ?  Our  operations  against  him  and 
his  confederates  could  have  gone  on  .  .  .  But,  alas! 
I  do  not  reflect  that  I  am  talking  to  his  friend,  who 
has  joined  him  against  me,  and  can  easily  counter- 
work the  mines  he  himself  has  dug. 

Weislingen.     My  gTacious  lord  — 

Bishop.  And  yet  —  when  I  again  look  on  thy 
face,  again  hear  thy  voice  —  it  is  impossible  —  im- 
possible ! 

Weislingen.     Farewell,  good  my  lord  ! 

Bishop.  I  give  thee  my  blessing  —  formerly,  when 
we  parted,  I  was  wont  to  say,  "  Till  we  meet  again  !  " 

—  Now,  Heaven  grant  we  meet  no  more  ! 
Weislingen.     Things  may  alter. 

Bishop.  Perhaps  I  may  live  to  see  thee  appear  as 
an  enemy  before  my  walls,  carrying  havoc  through  the 
fertile  plains  which  now  owe  their  flourishing  condition 
to  thee. 


278  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

Weislingen.     Never,  my  gracious  lord  ! 
Bishop.     You  cannot  say  so.     My  temporal  neigh- 
bours all  have  a  grudge  against  me;  but  while  thou 
wert  mine  .  .  .  Go,  Weishngen !  —  I  have  no  more  to 
say  —     Thou  hast  undone  much  —     Go  — 
Weislingen.     I  know  not  what  to  answer. 

[Exit  Bishop. 
Enter  Francis. 

Francis.  The  lady  Adelaide  expects  you.  She  is 
not  well,  but  she  will  not  let  you  depart  without  bid- 
ding her  adieu. 

Weislingen.     Come. 

Francis.     Do  we  go  for  certain  ? 

Weislingen.     This  very  night. 

Francis.  I  feel  as  if  I  were  about  to  leave  the 
world  — 

Weislingen.  I  too,  and  as  if,  besides,  I  knew  not 
whither  to  go. 

Scene  VI. —  Adelaide's  Apartment. 

Adelaide  and  Waiting  -  maid. 

Maid.     You  are  pale,  gracious  lady. 

Adelaide.  I  love  him  not ;  yet  I  wish  him  to  stay 
—  for  I  am  fond  of  his  company,  though  I  should  not 
like  him  for  my  husband. 

Maid.     Does  your  ladyship  think  he  will  go  ? 

Adelaide.  He  is  even  now  bidding  the  bishop  fare- 
well. 

Maid.     He  has  yet  a  severe  struggle  to  undergo. 

Adelaide.     What  meanest  thou  ? 

Maid.  Why  do  you  ask,  gracious  lady  ?  The 
barbed  hook  is  in  his  heart :  ere  he  tear  it  away,  he 
must  bleed  to  death. 

Enter  Weislingen. 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  279 

Weislingen.     You  are  not  well,  gracious  lady  ? 

Adelaide.  That  must  be  indifferent  to  you  —  you 
leave  us,  leave  us  for  ever*  what  matters  it  to  you 
whether  we  hve  or  die  ? 

Weislingen.     You  do  me  injustice. 

Adelaide.     I  judge  you  as  you  appear. 

Weislingen.     Appearances  are  deceitful, 

Adelaide.     Then,  you  are  a  chameleon. 

Weislingen.     Could  you  but  see  my  heart  — 

Adelaide.     I  should  see  fine  things  there. 

Weislingen.  Undoubtedly  !  —  You  would  find  in 
it  your  own  image  — 

Adelaide.  Thrust  into  some  dark  corner,  with  the 
pictures  of  defunct  ancestors  !  I  beseech  you,  Weis- 
lingen, consider  with  whom  you  speak :  false  words  are 
of  value  only  when  they  serve  to  veil  our  actions ;  a 
discovered  masquerader  plays  a  pitiful  part.  You  do 
not  disown  your  deeds,  yet  your  words  belie  them  : 
what  are  we  to  think  of  you  ? 

Weislingen.  What  you  will  —  I  am  so  agonised 
at  reflecting  on  what  I  am,  that  I  little  reck  for  what 
I  am  taken. 

Adelaide.     You  came  to  say  farewell. 

Weislingen.  Permit  me  to  kiss  your  hand,  and  I 
will  say  adieu !  .  .  .  You  remind  me  —  I  did  not 
think  —  but  I  am  troublesome  — 

Adelaide.  You  misinterpret  me.  Since  you  will 
depart,  I  only  wished  to  assist  your  resolution. 

Weislingen.  Oh,  say  rather,  I  must !  —  were  I 
not  compelled,  by  my  knightly  word,  —  my  solemn 
engagement  — 

Adelaide.  Go  to !  Talk  of  that  to  maidens  who 
read  "  Theuerdanck,"  and  wish  they  had  such  a  hus- 
band. —  Knightly  word  !  —  Nonsense  ! 

Weislingen.     That  is  not  your  opinion. 

Adelaide.  On  my  honour,  you  are  dissembling. 
What  have  you  promised  ?  and  to  whom  ?     You  have 


28o  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

pledged  your  alliance  to  one  who  is  a  traitor  to  the 
emperor,  at  the  very  moment  when  he  incurred  the 
ban  of  the  empire  by  taking  you  prisoner.  Such  an 
agreement  is  no  more  binding  than  an  extorted,  unjust 
oath.  And  do  not  our  laws  release  you  from  such 
oaths  ?  Go,  tell  that  to  children,  who  believe  in 
Eiibezahl.  There  is  something  behind  all  this.  —  To 
become  an  enemy  of  the  empire  —  a  disturber  of  public 
happiness  and  tranquilhty,  an  enemy  of  the  emperor, 
the  associate  of  a  robber !  —  Thou,  Weislingen,  with 
thy  gentle  soul  ! 

Weislingen.     If  you  knew  him  — 

Adelaide.  I  would  deal  justly  with  Goetz.  He 
has  a  lofty,  indomitable  spirit  ;  and  woe  to  thee,  there- 
fore, Weislingen  !  Go,  and  persuade  thyself  thou  art 
his  companion.  Go,  and  receive  his  commands.  Thou 
art  courteous,  gentle  — 

Weislingen.     And  he  too. 

Adelaide.  But  thou  art  yielding,  and  he  is  stub- 
born. Imperceptibly  will  he  draw  thee  on.  Thou 
wilt  become  the  slave  of  a  baron,  —  thou  that  mightest 
command  princes  !  —  Yet  it  is  cruel  to  make  you  dis- 
contented with  your  future  position. 

Weislingen.  Did  you  but  know  what  kindness  he 
showed  me. 

Adelaide.  Kindness  !  —  Do  you  make  such  a  merit 
of  that  ?  It  was  his  duty.  And  what  would  you 
have  lost  had  he  acted  otherwise  ?  I  would  rather  he 
had  done  so.     An  overbearing  man  like  — 

Weislingen.     You  are  speaking  of  your  enemy. 

Adelaide.  I  was  speaking  for  your  freedom ;  yet  I 
know  not  why  I  should  take  so  much  interest  in  it. 
Farewell ! 

Weislingen.     Permit  me,  but  a  moment. 

[Takes  her  hand.     A  pause. 

Adelaide.     Have  you  aught  to  say  ? 

Weislingen.     I  must  hence. 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  281 

Adelaide.     Then,  go. 
Weislingen.     Gracious  lady,  I  cannot. 
Adelaide.     You  must. 

Weislingen.     And  is  this  your  parting  look  ? 
Adelaide.     Go  :  I  am  unwell,  very  inopportunely. 
Weislingen.     Look  not  on  me  thus ! 
Adelaide.     Wilt  thou  be  our  enemy,  and  yet  have 
us  smile  upon  thee  ?  —  go  ! 
Weislingen.     Adelaide ! 
Adelaide.     I  hate  thee  ! 

Enter  Francis. 

Francis.     Noble  sir,  the  bishop  inquires  for  you. 

Adelaide.     Go  !  go ! 

Francis.     He  begs  you  to  come  instantly. 

Adelaide.     Go  !  go ! 

Weislingen.  I  do  not  say  adieu  :  I  shall  see  you 
again.  \_Exeunt  Weislingen  and  Francis. 

Adelaide.  Thou  wilt  see  me  again  ?  We  must 
provide  for  that.  Margaret,  when  he  comes,  refuse  him 
admittance.  Say  I  am  ill,  have  a  headache,  am  asleep, 
anything.     If  this  does  not  detain  him,  nothing  will. 

\_Exeunt. 

Scene  VII.  —  An  Anteroom. 

Weislingen  and  Francis. 

Weislingen.     She  will  not  see  me  ! 

Francis.     Night  draws  on  :  shall  we  saddle  ? 

Weislingen.     She  will  not  see  me ! 

Francis.     Shall  I  order  the  horses  ? 

Weislingen.     It  is  too  late  :  we  stay  here. 

Francis.     God  be  praised !  \_Exit. 

Weislingen  (alone).  Thou  stayest !  Be  on  thy 
guard  —  the  temptation  is  great.  My  horse  started  at 
the  castle-gate.     My  good  angel  stood  before  him :  he 


282  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

knew  the  danger  that  awaited  me.  Yet  it  would 
be  wrong  to  leave  in  confusion  the  various  affairs 
entrusted  to  me  by  the  bishop,  without,  at  least,  so 
arranging  them,  that  my  successor  may  be  able  to 
continue  where  I  left  off.  Thus  much  I  can  do  with- 
out injury  to  Berlichingen,  and  my  alhance  with  him ; 
and,  when  it  is  done,  no  one  shall  detain  me.  Yet  it 
would  have  been  better  that  I  had  never  come.  But  I 
will  away  —  to-morrow  —  or  next  day.  \_Exif. 

Scene  VIII.  —  The  Spessart. 

Fnter  Goetz,  Selbitz,  and  George. 

Selbitz.     You  see,  it  has  turned  out  as  I  prophesied. 

Goetz.     No,  no,  no ! 

George.  I  tell  you  the  truth,  believe  me.  I  did  as 
you  commanded,  took  the  dress  and  password  of  the 
Bamberg  trooper,  and  escorted  some  peasants  of  the 
Lower  Ehine,  who  paid  my  expenses  for  my  convoy. 

Selbitz.  In  that  disguise  ?  It  might  have  cost 
thee  dear. 

George.  So  I  begin  to  think,  now  that  it's  over. 
A  trooper  who  thinks  of  danger  beforehand  will  never 
do  anything  great.  I  got  safely  to  Bamberg ;  and  in 
the  very  first  inn  I  heard  them  tell  how  the  bishop  and 
Weislingen  were  reconciled,  and  how  Weishngen  was 
to  marry  the  widow  of  Von  Walldorf. 

Goetz.     Mere  gossip ! 

George.  I  saw  him  as  he  led  her  to  table.  She  is 
lovely,  by  my  faith,  most  lovely !  We  all  bowed  — 
she  thanked  us  all.  He  nodded,  and  seemed  highly 
pleased.  They  passed  on ;  and  everybody  murmured, 
"  What  a  handsome  pair  !  " 

Goetz.     That  may  be. 

George.  Listen  further.  The  next  day,  as  he  went 
to  mass,  I  watched  my  opportunity ;  he  was  attended 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  283 

only  by  his  squire :  I  stood  at  the  steps,  and  whis- 
pered to  him  as  he  passed,  "  A  few  words  from  your 
friend  Berhchingeu."  He  started  —  I  marked  the 
confession  of  guilt  in  his  face.  He  had  scarcely  the 
heart  to  look  at  me  —  me,  a  poor  trooper's  boy  ! 

Selbitz.  His  evil  conscience  degrades  him  more 
than  thy  condition  does  thee. 

George.  "  Art  thou  of  Bamberg  ? "  said  he.  "  The 
Knight  of  Berlichingen  greets  you,"  said  I,  "  and  I  am 
to  inquire  — "  "  Come  to  my  apartment  to-morrow 
morning,"  quoth  he,  "  and  we  will  speak  further." 

GoETZ.     And  you  went  ? 

Geoege.  Yes,  certainly,  I  went,  and  waited  in  his 
antechamber  a  long,  long  time ;  and  his  pages,  in  their 
silken  doublets,  stared  at  me  from  head  to  foot.  Stare 
on,  thought  I.  At  length  I  was  admitted.  He  seemed 
angry.  But  what  cared  I  ?  I  gave  my  message.  He 
began  blustering  like  a  coward  who  wants  to  look 
brave.  He  wondered  that  you  should  take  him  to 
task  through  a  trooper's  boy.  That  angered  me. 
"  There  are  but  two  sorts  of  people,"  said  I,  "  true  men 
and  scoundrels  ;  and  I  serve  Goetz  of  Berhchingen." 
Then  he  began  to  talk  all  manner  of  nonsense,  which 
all  tended  to  one  point ;  namely,  that  you  had  hurried 
him  into  an  agreement,  that  he  owed  you  no  allegiance, 
and  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  you. 

GoETZ.     Hadst  thou  that  from  his  own  mouth  ? 

George.    That,  and  yet  more.   He  threatened  me  — 

Goetz.  It  is  enough.  He  is  lost  for  ever.  Faith 
and  confidence,  again  have  ye  deceived  me.  Poor 
Maria !  how  am  I  to  break  this  to  you  ? 

Selbitz.  I  would  rather  lose  my  other  leg  than  be 
such  a  rascal. 


284  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 


Scene  IX.  —  Hall  in  the  Bishop's  Palace  at  Bainherg. 

Adelaide  and  Weislingen  discovered. 

Adelaide.  Time  begins  to  hang  in  supportably- 
heavy  here.  I  dare  not  speak  seriously,  and  I  am 
ashamed  to  trifle  with  you.  Ennui,  thou  art  worse 
than  a  slow  fever. 

Weislingen.     Are  you  tired  of  me  already  ? 

Adelaide.  Not  so  much  of  you  as  of  your  society. 
I  would  you  had  gone  when  you  wished,  and  that  we 
had  not  detained  you. 

Weislingen.  Such  is  woman's  favour !  At  first 
she  fosters  with  maternal  warmth  our  dearest  hopes ; 
and  then,  like  an  inconstant  hen,  she  forsakes  the  nest, 
and  abandons  the  infant  brood  to  death  and  decay. 

Adelaide.  Yes,  you  may  rail  at  women.  The  reck- 
less gambler  tears  and  curses  the  harmless  cards  which 
have  been  the  instruments  of  his  loss.  But  let  me  tell 
you  something  about  men.  What  are  you  that  talk 
about  fickleness  ?  You  that  are  seldom  even  what  you 
would  wish  to  be,  never  what  you  should  be.  Princes 
in  hohday  garb!  the  envy  of  the  vulgar.  Oh,  what 
would  not  a  tailor's  wife  give  for  a  necklace  of  the 
pearls  on  the  skirt  of  your  robe,  which  you  kick  back 
contemptuously  with  your  heels. 

Weislingen.     You  are  severe. 

Adelaide.  It  is  but  the  antistrophe  to  your  song. 
Ere  I  knew  you,  Weislingen,  I  felt  like  the  tailor's  wife. 
Huudred-tongued  rumour,  to  speak  without  metaphor, 
had  so  extolled  you,  in  quack-doctor  fashion,  that  I  was 
tempted  to  wish,  Oh,  that  I  could  but  see  this  quin- 
tessence of  manhood,  this  phcenix,  Weislingen !  My 
wish  was  granted. 

Weislingen.  And  the  phcenix  turned  out  a  dunghill 
cock. 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  2S5 

Adelaide.  No,  Weislingen :  I  took  au  interest 
in  you. 

Weislingen.     So  it  appeared. 

Adelaide.  So  it  was  —  for  you  really  surpassed 
your  reputation.  The  multitude  prize  only  the  reflec- 
tion of  worth.  For  my  part,  I  do  not  care  to  scrutinise 
the  character  of  those  I  like  and  esteem  :  so  we  lived  on 
for  some  time.  I  felt  there  was  a  deficiency  in  you, 
but  knew  not  what  I  missed  :  at  length  my  eyes  were 
opened  —  I  saw  instead  of  the  energetic  being  who  gave 
impulse  to  the  affairs  of  a  kingdom,  and  was  ever  alive 
to  the  voice  of  fame ;  who  was  wont  to  pile  princely 
project  on  project,  till,  like  the  mountains  of  the  Titans, 
they  reached  the  clouds,  —  instead  of  all  this,  I  saw  a 
man  as  querulous  as  a  love-sick  poet,  as  melancholy  as 
a  slighted  damsel,  and  more  indolent  than  an  old  bach- 
elor. I  first  ascribed  it  to  your  misfortune,  which  still 
lay  at  your  heart,  and  excused  you  as  well  as  I  could ; 
but  now  that  it  daily  becomes  worse,  you  must  really 
forgive  me  if  I  withdraw  my  favour  from  you.  You 
possess  it  unjustly  :  I  bestowed  it  for  life  on  a  hero  who 
cannot  transfer  it  to  you. 

Weislingen.     Dismiss  me,  then. 

Adelaide.  Not  till  all  chance  of  recovery  is  lost. 
Solitude  is  fatal  in  your  distemper.  Alas  !  poor  man  ! 
you  are  as  dejected  as  one  whose  first  love  has  proved 
false,  and  therefore  I  won't  give  you  up.  Give  me  your 
hand,  and  pardon  what  affection  has  urged  me  to  say. 

Weislingen.  Couldst  thou  but  love  me,  couldst 
thou  but  return  the  fervour  of  my  passion  with  the 
least  glow  of  sympathy.  —  Adelaide,  thy  reproaches 
are  most  unjust.  Couldst  thou  but  guess  the  hun- 
dredth part  of  my  sufferings,  thou  wouldst  not  have 
tortured  me  so  unmercifully  with  encouragement,  in- 
difference, and  contempt.  You  smile.  To  be  recon- 
ciled to  myself  after  the  step  I  have  taken  must  be  the 
work  of  more  than  one  day.     How  can  I  plot  against 


286  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

the  man  who  has  been  so  recently  and  so  vividly 
restored  to  my  aifection  ? 

Adelaide.  Strange  being!  Can  you  love  him 
whom  you  envy  ?  It  is  hke  sending  provisions  to 
an  enemy. 

Weislingen.  I  well  know  that  here  there  must  be 
no  dallying.  He  is  aware  that  I  am  again  Weishngen, 
and  he  will  watch  his  advantage  over  us.  Besides, 
Adelaide,  we  are  not  so  sluggish  as  you  think.  Our 
troopers  are  reenforced  and  watchful  ;  our  schemes  are 
proceeding ;  and  the  Diet  of  Augsburg  will,  I  hope, 
soon  bring  them  to  a  favourable  issue. 

Adelaide.     You  go  there  ? 

Weislingen.  If  I  could  carry  a  glimpse  of  hope 
with  me.  [^Kisses  her  hand. 

Adelaide.  Oh !  ye  infidels !  Always  signs  and 
wonders  required.  Go,  Weislingen,  and  accomplish 
the  work !  The  interest  of  the  bishop,  yours  and 
mine,  are  all  so  linked  together,  that  were  it  only  for 
policy's  sake  — 

Weislingen.     You  jest. 

Adelaide.  I  do  not  jest.  The  haughty  duke  has 
seized  my  property.  Goetz  will  not  be  slow  to  ravage 
yours ;  and  if  we  do  not  hold  together,  as  our  enemies 
do,  and  gain  over  the  emperor  to  our  side,  we  are 
lost. 

Weislingen.  I  fear  nothing.  Most  of  the  princes 
think  with  us.  The  emperor  needs  assistance  against 
the  Turks,  and  it  is  therefore  just  that  he  should  help 
us  in  his  turn.  What  rapture  for  me  to  rescue  your 
fortune  from  rapacious  enemies ;  to  crush  the  mutinous 
chivalry  of  Swabia ;  to  restore  peace  to  the  bishopric, 
and  then  — 

Adelaide.  One  day  brings  on  another,  and  fate  is 
mistress  of  the  future. 

Weislingen.     But  we  must  lend  our  endeavours. 

Adelaide.     We  do  so. 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  287 

Weislingen.     But  seriously. 

Adelaide.     Well,  then,  seriously.     Do  but  go  — 

Weislingen.     Enchantress !  \_BxeunL 


Scene  X.  —  An  Inn: 

The  Bridal  of  a  Peasant. 

The  Bkide's  Father,  Bride,  Bridegroom,  trnd  other 
Country-folks,  Goetz  of  Berlichingen,  and  Hans 
OF  Selbitz  all  discovered  at  table.  Troopers  and 
Peasants  attend. 

Goetz.  It  was  the  best  way  thus  to  settle  your 
lawsuit  by  a  merry  bridal. 

Bride's  Father.  Better  than  ever  I  could  have 
dreamed  of,  noble  sir,  —  to  spend  my  days  in  quiet 
with  my  neighbour,  and  have  a  daughter  provided  for 
to  boot. 

Bridegroom.  And  I  to  get  the  bone  of  contention 
and  a  pretty  wife  into  the  bargain  !  Ay,  the  prettiest 
in  the  whole  village.  Would  to  Heaven  you  had  con- 
sented sooner ! 

Goetz.     How  long  have  you  been  at  law  ? 

Bride's  Father.  About  eight  years.  I  would 
rather  have  the  fever  for  twice  that  time,  than  go 
through  with  it  again  from  the  beginning.  For  these 
periwigged  gentry  never  give  a  decision  till  you  tear  it 
out  of  their  very  hearts  ;  and,  after  all,  what  do  you 
get  for  your  pains?  The  Devil  fly  away  with  the 
assessor  Sapupi  for  a  damned  swarthy  Italian ! 

Bridegroom.  Yes,  he's  a  pretty  fellow :  I  was  before 
him  twice. 

Bride's  Father.  And  I  thrice :  and  look  ye,  gentle- 
men, we  got  a  judgment  at  last,  which  set  forth  that  he 
was  as  much  in  the  right  as  I,  and  I  as  much  as  he ; 


288  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

so  there  we  stood  like  a  couple  of  fools,  till  a  good 
Providence  put  it  into  my  head  to  give  him  my  daugh- 
ter and  the  ground  besides. 

GoETZ   {drinks).     To  your  better  understanding  in 

future. 

Bride's  Father.  With  all  my  heart !  But,  come 
what  may,  I'll  never  go  to  law  again  as  long  as  I  live. 
What  a  mint  of  money  it  costs !  For  every  bow  made 
to  you  by  a  procurator,  you  must  come  down  with  your 
dollars. 

Selbitz.     But  there  are  annual  imperial  visitations. 

Bride's  Father.  I  have  never  heard  of  them.  Many 
an  extra  dollar  have  they  contrived  to  squeeze  out  of 
me.     The  expenses  are  horrible. 

Goetz.     How  mean  you  ? 

Bride's  Father.  Why,  look  you,  these  gentlemen 
of  the  law  are  always  holding  out  their  hands.  The 
assessor  alone,  God  forgive  him,  eased  me  of  eighteen 
golden  guilders. 

Bridegroom.     Who  ? 

Bride's  Father.     Why,  who  else  but  Sapupi  ? 

Goetz.    That  is  infamous. 

Bride's  Father.  Yes :  he  asked  twenty  ;  and  there 
I  had  to  pay  them  in  the  great  hall  of  his  fine  country- 
house.  I  thought  my  heart  would  burst  with  anguish. 
For  look  you,  my  lord,  I  am  well  enough  off  vnth  my 
house  and  httle  farm ;  but  how  could  I  raise  the  ready 
cash  ?  I  stood  there,  God  knows  how  it  was  with  me. 
I  had  not  a  single  farthing  to  carry  me  on  my  journey. 
At  last  I  took  courage,  and  told  him  my  case  :  when  he 
saw  I  was  desperate,  he  flung  me  back  a  couple  of 
guilders,  and  sent  me  about  my  business. 

Bridegroom.     Impossible !     Sapupi  ? 

Bride's  Father.  Ay,  he  himself !  What  do  you 
stare  at  ? 

Bridegroom.  Devil  take  the  rascal!  He  took 
fifteen  guilders  from  me  too ! 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  289 

Bride's  Father.     The  deuce  he  did  ! 

Sklbitz.     They  call  us  robbers,  Goetz  ! 

Bride's  Father.  Bribed  on  both  sides  !  That's 
why  the  judgment  fell  out  so  queer.    Oh  !  the  scoundrel ! 

Goetz.    You  must  not  let  this  pass  unnoticed. 

Bride's  Father.    What  can  we  do  ? 

Goetz.  Why  —  go  to  Spire,  where  there  is  an  impe- 
rial visitation  :  make  your  complaint ;  they  must  inquire 
into  it,  and  help  you  to  your  own  again. 

Bridegroom.  Does  your  honour  think  we  shall  suc- 
ceed ? 

Goetz.  If  I  might  take  it  in  hand,  I  could  promise 
it  you. 

Selbitz.     The  sum  is  worth  an  attempt. 

Goetz.  Ay :  many  a  day  have  I  ridden  out  for  the 
fourth  part  of  it. 

Bride's  Father  {to  Bridegroom).  What  think'st 
thou  ? 

Bridegroom.     We'll  try,  come  what  may. 

Enter  George. 

George.     The  Nurembergers  have  set  out. 

Goetz.     Whereabouts  are  they  ? 

George.  If  we  ride  off  quietly,  we  shall  just  catch 
them  in  the  wood  betwixt  Berheim  and  Miihlbach. 

Selbitz.     Excellent. 

Goetz.  Well,  my  children,  God  bless  you,  and  help 
every  man  to  his  own  ! 

Bride's  Father.  Thanks,  gallant  sir  !  Will  you 
not  stay  to  supper  ? 

Goetz.     We  cannot.     Adieu ! 

\_Exeunt  Goetz,  Selbitz,  a7id  Troopers. 


290  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

ACT    III. 

Scene  I.  —  A  Garden  at  Augsburg. 

Enter  two  Merchants  of  Nuremberg. 

FiEST  Merchant.  We'll  stand  here,  for  the  em- 
peror must  pass  this  way.  He  is  just  coming  up  the 
long  avenue. 

Second  Merchant.     Who  is  he  that's  with  him  ? 

First  Merchant.     Adelbert  of  Weislingen. 

Second  Merchant.  The  bishop's  friend.  That's 
lucky  ! 

First  Merchant.  We'll  throw  ourselves  at  his 
feet. 

Second  Merchant.     See  !  they  come. 

Enter  the  Emperor  and  Weislingen. 

First  Merchant.     He  looks  displeased. 

Emperor.  I  am  disheartened,  Weislingen.  When 
I  review  my  past  life,  I  am  ready  to  despair.  So  many 
half  — ay,  and  wholly  ruined  undertakings  —  and  all  be- 
cause the  pettiest  feudatory  of  the  empire  thinks  more 
of  gratifying  his  own  whims  than  of  seconding  my 
endeavours. 

[TVte  Merchants  throw  themselves  at  his  feet. 

First  Merchant.     Most  mighty  !     Most  gracious ! 

Emperor.     Who  are  ye  ?     What  seek  ye  ? 

First  Merchant.  Poor  merchants  of  Nuremberg, 
your  Majesty's  devoted  servants,  who  implore  your  aid. 
Goetz  von  Berlichingen  and  Hans  von  Selbitz  fell 
upon  thirty  of  us  as  we  journeyed  from  the  fair  of 
Frankfort,  under  an  escort  from  Bamberg :  they  over- 
powered and  plundered  us.  We  implore  your  imperial 
assistance  to  obtain  redress,  else  we  are  all  ruined  men, 
and  shall  be  compelled  to  beg  our  bread. 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  291 

Empekok.  Good  heavens  !  What  is  this  ?  The 
one  has  but  one  hand,  the  other  but  one  leg  :  if  they 
both  had  two  hands  and  two  legs,  what  would  you  do 
then  ? 

FiEST  Merchant.  We  most  humbly  beseech  your 
Majesty  to  cast  a  look  of  compassion  upon  our  unfortu- 
nate condition. 

Emperor.  How  is  this  ?  —  If  a  merchant  loses 
a  bag  of  pepper,  all  Germany  is  to  rise  in  arms  ;  but 
when  business  is  to  be  done,  in  which  the  imperial 
majesty  and  the  empire  are  interested,  should  it  con- 
cern dukedoms,  principalities,  or  kingdoms,  there  is  no 
bringing  you  together. 

Weislingen.  You  come  at  an  unseasonable  time. 
Go,  and  stay  at  Augsburg  for  a  few  days. 

Merchants.    We  make  our  most  humble  obeisance. 

[Exeunt  Merchants. 

Emperor.  Again  new  disturbances  ;  they  multiply 
like  the  hydra's  heads  ! 

Weislingen.  And  can  only  be  extirpated  with  fire 
and  sword,  and  a  courageous  enterprise. 

Emperor.     Do  you  think  so  ? 

Weislingen.  Nothing  seems  to  me  more  advisable, 
could  your  Majesty  and  the  princes  but  accommodate 
your  other  unimportant  disputes.  It  is  not  the  body 
of  the  state  that  complains  of  this  malady  —  Eranconia 
and  Swabia  alone  glow  with  the  embers  of  civil  dis- 
cord ;  and  even  there  many  of  the  nobles  and  free 
barons  long  for  quiet.  Could  we  but  crush  Sickiugen, 
Selbitz  —  and  —  and  Berlichingen,  the  others  would  fall 
asunder;  for  it  is  the  spirit  of  these  knights  which 
quickens  the  turbulent  multitude. 

Emperor,  Fain  would  I  spare  them :  they  are  noble 
and  hardy.  Should  I  be  engaged  in  war,  they  would 
follow  me  to  the  field. 

Weislingen.  It  is  to  be  wished  they  had  at  all 
times  known  their  duty :  moreover  it  would  be  dan- 


292  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

gerous  to  reward  their  mutinous  bravery  by  offices  of 
trust.  For  it  is  exactly  this  imperial  mercy  and  for- 
giveness which  they  have  hitherto  so  grievously  abused, 
upon  which  the  hope  and  confidence  of  their  league 
rest ;  and  this  spirit  cannot  be  quelled  till  we  have 
wholly  destroyed  their  power  in  the  eyes  of  the  world, 
and  taken  from  them  all  hope  of  ever  recovering  their 
lost  influence. 

Empekor.     You  advise  severe  measures,  then  ? 

Weislingen.  I  see  no  other  means  of  quelhng  the 
spirit  of  insurrection  which  has  seized  upon  whole 
provinces.  Do  we  not  already  hear  the  bitterest  com- 
plaints from  the  nobles  that  their  vassals  and  serfs 
rebel  against  them,  question  their  authority,  and 
threaten  to  curtail  their  hereditary  prerogatives  ?  A 
proceeding  which  would  involve  the  most  fearful  con- 
sequences. 

Emperor.  This  were  a  fair  occasion  for  proceeding 
against  Berlichingen  and  Selbitz,  but  I  will  not  have 
them  personally  injured.  Could  they  be  taken  pris- 
oners, they  should  swear  to  renounce  their  feuds  and 
to  remain  'in  their  own  castles  and  territories  upon 
their  knightly  parole.  At  the  next  session  of  the  diet 
we  will  propose  this  plan. 

Weislingen.  A  general  exclamation  of  joyful  as- 
sent will  spare  your  Majesty  the  trouble  of  particular 
detail.  [Uxeunt. 


Scene  II.  —  Jaxthausen. 

Enter  Goetz  and  Franz  von  Sickingen. 

SiCKiNGEN.  Yes,  my  friend,  I  come  to  beg  the 
heart  and  hand  of  your  noble  sister. 

Goetz.  I  would  you  had  come  sooner.  Weislin- 
gen, during  his  imprisonment,  obtained  her  affections, 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  293 

proposed  for  her ;  and  I  gave  my  consent.  I  let  the 
bird  loose,  and  he  now  despises  the  benevolent  hand 
that  fed  him  in  his  distress.  He  flutters  about  to  seek 
his  food,  God  knows  upon  what  hedge. 

SiCKINGEN.        Is  this  so  ? 

GoETZ.     Even  as  I  tell  you. 

SiCKINGEN.  He  has  broken  a  double  bond.  'Tis 
well  for  you  that  you  were  not  more  closely  allied 
with  the  traitor. 

GoETZ.  The  poor  maiden  passes  her  hfe  in  lamen- 
tation and  prayer. 

SiCKINGEN.     I  will  comfort  her. 

GoETZ.  What  !  Could  you  make  up  your  mind  to 
marry  a  forsaken  — 

SiCKINGEN.  It  is  to  the  honour  of  you  both,  to  have 
been  deceived  by  him.  Should  the  poor  girl  be  caged 
in  a  cloister  because  the  first  man  who  gained  her  love 
proved  a  villain  ?  Not  so :  I  insist  on  it.  She  shall 
be  mistress  of  my  castles ! 

GoETZ.     I  tell  you,  he  was  not  indifferent  to  her. 

SiCKINGEN.  Do  you  think  I  cannot  efface  the  recol- 
lection of  such  a  wretch  ?     Let  us  go  to  her.     [Exe^mt. 


Scene.    III.  —  Tlie  Camp  of  the  Party  sent  to  execute 
the  Imperial  Mandate. 

Imperial  Captain  and  Officers  discovered. 

Captain.  We  must  be  cautious,  and  spare  our 
people  as  much  as  possible.  Besides,  we  have  strict 
orders  to  overpower  and  take  him  alive.  It  will  be 
difficult  to  obey,  for  who  wiU  engage  with  him  hand 
to  hand  ? 

First  Officer.  'Tis  true.  And  he  will  fight  like 
a  wild  boar.  Besides,  he  has  never  in  his  whole  life 
injured  any  of  us ;  so  each  will  be  glad  to  leave  to  the 


294  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

other  the  honour  of  risking  hfe  and  limb  to  please  the 
emperor. 

Second  Officer.  'Twere  shame  to  us  should  we 
not  take  Mm.  Had  I  him  once  by  the  ears,  he  should 
not  easily  escape. 

FiEST  Officer.  Don't  seize  him  with  your  teeth, 
however :  he  might  chance  to  run  away  with  your  jaw- 
bone. My  good  young  sir,  such  men  are  not  taken 
like  a  runaway  thief. 

Second  Officer.     We  shall  see. 

Captain.  By  this  time  he  must  have  had  our  sum- 
mons. We  must  not  delay.  I  mean  to  despatch  a 
troop  to  watch  his  motions. 

Second  Officer.     Let  me  lead  it. 

Captain.     You  are  unacquainted  with  the  country. 

Second  Officer.  I  have  a  servant  who  was  born 
and  bred  here. 

Captain.     That  will  do.  [UxeunL 

Scene  IV.  -=-  Jaxthausen. 

SiCKiNGEN  (alone). 

All  goes  as  I  wish  !  She  was  somewhat  startled  at 
my  proposal,  and  looked  at  me  from  head  to  foot :  I'll 
wager  she  was  comparing  me  with  her  gallant.  Thank 
Heaven  I  can  stand  the  scrutiny  !  She  answered  little 
and  confusedly.  So  much  the  better  !  Let  it  work 
for  a  time.  A  proposal  of  marriage  does  not  come 
amiss  after  such  a  cruel  disappointment. 

Ente7'  GoETZ. 

Sickingen.     What  news,  brother  ? 
GoETZ.     They  have  laid  me  under  the  ban. 
Sickingen.     How  ? 

GoETZ.  There,  read  the  edifying  epistle.  The  em- 
peror has  issued  an  edict  against  me,  which  gives  my 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  295 

body  for  food  to  the  beasts  of  the  earth  and  the  fowls 
of  the  air. 

SiCKiNGEN.  They  shall  first  furnish  them  with  a 
dinner  themselves.  I  am  here  in  the  very  nick  of 
time. 

GoETZ.  No,  Sickingen,  you  must  leave  me.  Your 
great  undertakings  might  be  ruined,  should  you  become 
the  enemy  of  the  emperor  at  so  unseasonable  a  time. 
Besides,  you  can  be  of  more  use  to  me  by  remaining 
neutral.  The  worst  that  can  happen,  is  my  being  made 
prisoner ;  and  then  your  good  word  with  the  emperor, 
who  esteems  you,  may  rescue  me  from  the  misfortune 
into  which  your  untimely  assistance  would  irremediably 
plunge  us  both.  To  what  purpose  should  you  do 
otherwise  ?  These  troops  are  marching  against  me ; 
and,  if  they  knew  we  were  united,  their  numbers  would 
only  be  increased,  and  our  position  consequently  be  no 
better.  The  emperor  is  at  the  fountainhead  ;  and  I 
should  be  utterly  ruined  were  it  as  easy  to  inspire 
soldiers  with  courage  as  to  collect  them  into  a  body. 

Sickingen.  But  I  can  privately  reinforce  you  with 
a  score  of  troopers. 

GoETZ.  Good.  I  have  already  sent  George  to 
Selbitz,  and  to  my  people  in  the  neighbourhood. 
My  dear  brother,  when  my  forces  are  collected,  they 
will  be  such  a  troop  as  few  princes  can  bring  together. 

Sickingen.     It  will  be  small  against  the  multitude. 

GoETZ.  One  wolf  is  too  many  for  a  whole  flock  of 
sheep. 

Sickingen.     But  if  they  have  a  good  shepherd  ! 

GoETZ.  Never  fear  !  They  are  all  hirelings  ;  and 
then,  even  the  best  knight  can  do  but  little  if  he  cannot 
act  as  he  pleases.  It  happened  once,  that,  to  oblige  the 
palsgrave,  I  went  to  serve  against  Conrad  Schotten : 
they  then  presented  me  with  a  paper  of  instructions 
from  the  chancery,  which  set  forth.  Thus  and  thus 
must  you  proceed.     I  threw  down  the  paper  before  the 


296  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

magistrates,  and  told  them  I  could  not  act  according  to 
it ;  that  something  might  happen  unprovided  for  in  my 
instructions,  and  that  I  must  use  my  own  eyes  and 
judge  what  it  is  best  for  me  to  do. 

SiCKiNGEN.  Good  luck,  brother !  I  will  hence,  and 
send  thee  what  men  I  can  collect  in  haste. 

GoETZ.  Come  first  to  the  women.  I  left  them 
together.  I  would  you  had  her  consent  before  you 
depart !  Then  send  me  the  troopers,  and  come  back 
in  private  to  carry  away  my  Maria ;  for  my  castle,  I 
fear,  will  shortly  be  no  abode  for  women. 

SiCKiNGEN.     We  will  hope  for  the  best. 

[Uxeunt 


Scene  V.  —  Bamherg.     Adelaide's  Chamber. 

Adelaide  and  Francis. 

Adelaide.  They  have  already  set  out  to  enforce  the 
ban  against  both  ? 

Francis.  Yes  ;  and  my  master  has  the  happiness 
of  marching  against  your  enemies.  I  would  gladly 
have  gone  also,  however  rejoiced  I  always  am  at  being 
despatched  to  you.  But  I  will  away  instantly,  and 
soon  return  with  good  news :  my  master  has  allowed 
me  to  do  so. 

Adelaide.     How  is  he  ? 

Francis.  He  is  well,  and  commanded  me  to  kiss 
your  hand. 

Adelaide.     There  !  —  Thy  hps  glow. 

Francis  (aside,  pressing  his  breast).  Here  glows 
something  yet  more  fiery.  (^Aloud.')  Gracious  lady, 
your  servants  are  the  most  fortunate  of  beings ! 

Adelaide.     Who  goes  against  Berhchingen  ? 

Francis.  The  Baron  von  Sirau.  Farewell !  Dear- 
est, most  gracious  lady,  I  must  away.     Forget  me  not ! 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  297 

Adelaide.  Thou  must  first  take  some  rest  and  re- 
freshment. 

Francis.  I  need  none,  for  I  have  seen  you !  I  am 
neither  weary  nor  hungry. 

Adelaide.     I  know  thy  fidelity. 

Francis.     Ah,  gracious  lady  ! 

Adelaide.  You  can  never  hold  out :  you  must 
repose  and  refresh  yourself. 

Francis.     You  are  too  kind  to  a  poor  youth.    [Exit. 

Adelaide.  The  tears  stood  in  his  eyes.  I  love  him 
from  my  heart.  Never  did  man  attach  himself  to  me 
with  such  warmth  of  affection.  [Exit. 


Scene  VI.  —  Jaxthausen. 

GoETz  and  George. 

George.  He  wants  to  speak  with  you  in  person. 
I  do  not  know  him  :  he  is  a  tall,  well-made  man,  with 
keen,  dark  eyes. 

GoETZ.     Admit  him.  [Exit  George. 

Enter   Lerse. 

GoETZ.     God  save  you !     What  bring  you  ? 

Lerse.  Myself  :  not  much ;  but,  such  as  it  is,  it  is 
at  your  service. 

GoETZ.  You  are  welcome,  doubly  welcome !  A 
brave  man,  and  at  a  time  when,  far  from  expecting  new 
friends,  I  was  in  hourly  fear  of  losing  the  old.  Your 
name  ? 

Lerse.     Franz  Lerse. 

GoETZ.  I  thank  you,  Franz,  for  making  me  ac- 
quainted with  a  brave  man  ! 

Lerse,  I  made  you  acquainted  with  me  once  before, 
but  then  you  did  not  thank  me  for  my  pains. 

GoETZ.     I  have  no  recollection  of  you. 


298  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

Lerse.  I  should  be  sorry  if  you  had.  Do  you 
recollect  when,  to  please  the  Palsgrave,  you  rode 
against  Conrad  Schotten,  and  went  through  Hassfurt 
on  an  All-hallow's  eve  ? 

GoETZ.     I  remember  it  well. 

Lerse.  And  twenty-five  troopers  encountered  you 
in  a  village  by  the  way  ? 

GoETZ.  Exactly.  I  at  first  took  them  for  only  twelve. 
I  divided  my  party,  which  amounted  but  to  sixteen,  and 
halted  in  the  village  behind  the  barn,  intending  to  let 
them  ride  by.  Then  I  thought  of  falling  upon  them  in 
the  rear,  as  I  had  concerted  with  the  other  troop. 

Lerse.  We  saw  you,  however,  and  stationed  ourselves 
on  a  height  above  the  village.  You  drew  up  beneath 
the  hill,  and  halted.  When  we  perceived  that  you  did 
not  intend  to  come  up  to  us,  we  rode  down  to  you. 

Goetz.  And  then  I  saw  for  the  first  time  that  I  had 
thrust  my  hand  into  the  fire.  Five  and  twenty  against 
eight  is  no  jesting  business.  Everard  Truchsess  killed 
one  of  my  followers,  for  which  I  knocked  him  oft'  his 
horse.  Had  they  all  behaved  hke  him  and  one  other 
trooper,  it  would  have  been  all  over  with  me  and  my 
little  band. 

Lerse.     And  that  trooper  — 

Goetz.  Was  as  gallant  a  fellow  as  I  ever  saw.  He 
attacked  me  fiercely  ;  and  when  I  thought  I  had  given 
him  enough,  and  was  engaged  elsewhere,  he  was  upon 
me  again,  and  laid  on  like  a  fury  ;  he  cut  quite  through 
my  armour,  and  wounded  me  in  the  arm. 

Lerse.     Have  you  forgiven  him  ? 

Goetz.     He  pleased  me  only  too  well. 

Lerse.  I  hope,  then,  you  have  cause  to  be  contented 
with  me  :  since  the  proof  of  my  valour  was  on  your  own 
person. 

Goetz.  Art  thou  he  ?  Oh,  welcome !  welcome ! 
Canst  thou  boast,  Maximilian,  that,  amongst  thy 
followers,  thou  hast  gained  one  after  this  fashion  ? 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  299 

Lerse.     I  wonder  you  did  not  sooner  hit  upon  me. 

GoETZ.  How  could  I  think  tliat  the  man  would  en- 
gage in  my  service  who  did  his  best  to  overpower  me  ? 

Lerse.  Even  so,  my  lord.  From  my  youth  up- 
ward I  have  served  as  a  trooper,  and  have  had  a  tussle 
with  many  a  knight.  I  was  overjoyed  when  we  met 
you ;  for  I  had  heard  of  your  prowess,  and  wished 
to  know  you.  You  saw  I  gave  way,  and  that  it  was 
not  from  cowardice  ;  for  I  returned  to  the  charge.  In 
short,  I  learnt  to  know  you  ;  and  from  that  hour  I 
resolved  to  enter  your  service. 

GoETZ.     How  loner  wilt  thou  engage  with  me  ? 

Lerse.     For  a  year,  without  pay. 

GoETZ.  No  :  thou  shalt  have  as  much  as  the  others ; 
nay,  more,  as  befits  him  who  gave  me  so  much  work 
at  Eemlin. 

Enter  George, 

George.  Hans  of  Selbitz  greets  you.  To-morrow 
he  will  be  here  with  fifty  men. 

GoETz.     'Tis  well. 

George.  There  is  a  troop  of  Imperialists  riding 
down  the  hill,  doubtless  to  reconnoitre. 

GoETZ.     How  many  ? 

George.     About  fifty. 

GoETZ.  Only  fifty  !  Come,  Lerse,  we'll  have  a  slash 
at  them  ;  so  that  when  Selbitz  comes  he  may  find  some 
work  done  to  his  hand. 

Lerse.     'Twill  be  capital  practice. 

GoETZ.     To  horse !  [Exeunt 


300  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

Scene  VII. — A   Wood,  on  the  Borders  of  a  Morass. 

Two  Imperialist  Troopers  meeting. 

First  Imperialist.     What  dost  thou  here  ? 

Second  Imperialist.  I  have  leave  of  absence  for 
ten  minutes.  Ever  since  our  quarters  were  beat  up  last 
night,  I  have  had  such  violent  attacks  that  I  can't  sit 
on  horseback  for  two  minutes  together. 

First  Imperialist.     Is  the  party  far  advanced  ? 

Second  Imperialist.  About  three  miles  into  the 
wood. 

First  Imperialist.  Then,  why  are  you  playing 
truant  here  ? 

Second  Imperialist.  Prithee,  betray  me  not.  I 
am  going  to  the  next  village  to  see  if  I  cannot  get 
some  warm  bandages,  to  relieve  my  complaint.  But 
whence  comest  thou  ? 

First  Imperialist.  I  am  bringing  our  officer  some 
wine  and  meat  from  the  nearest  village. 

Second  Imperialist.  So,  so  !  he  stuffs  himself 
under  our  very  noses,  and  we  must  starve,  —  a  fine 
example ! 

First  Imperialist.     Come  back  with  me,  rascal. 

Second  Imperialist.  Call  me  a  fool  if  I  do  !  There 
are  plenty  in  our  troop  who  would  gladly  fast,  to  be  as 
far  away  as  I  am.  [^Trampling  of  horses  heard. 

First  Imperialist.     Hearest  thou  ?  —  Horses  ! 

Second  Imperialist.     Oh,  dear !  oh,  dear  ! 

First  Imperialist.     I'll  get  up  into  this  tree. 

Second  Imperialist.  And  I'll  hide  among  the 
rushes.  ['^^^1/  ^^^'^^  themselves. 

Enter  on  horseback,  Goetz,  Lerse,  George,  and  Troop- 
ers, all  completely  armed. 

Goetz.  Away  into  the  wood,  by  the  ditch  on  the 
left  —  then  we  have  them  in  the  rear.     [Theg  gallop  off. 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  301 

First  Imperialist  (descending).  This  is  a  bad 
business  —  Michael !  —  He  answers  not  —  Michael, 
they  are  gone  !  (^Goes  toward  the  marsh.^  Alas,  he 
is  sunk  !  —  Michael !  —  He  hears  me  not :  he  is 
suffocated.  —  Poor  coward,  art  thou  done  for  ?  — 
We  are  slain  —     Enemies  !     Enemies  on  all  sides  ! 

Reenter  Goetz  and  George  on  horseback. 

GoETZ.     Yield  thee,  fellow,  or  thou  diest ! 

Imperialist.     Spare  my  life  ! 

Goetz.  Thy  sword !  —  George,  lead  him  to  the 
other  prisoners,  whom  Lerse  is  guarding  yonder  in  the 
wood  —  I  must  pursue  their  fugitive  leader.  [Uxit. 

Imperialist.  What  has  become  of  the  knight,  our 
officer  ? 

George.  My  master  struck  him  head  over  heels 
from  his  horse,  so  that  his  plume  stuck  in  the  mire. 
His  troopers  got  him  up,  and  off  they  were  as  if  the 
Devil  were  behind  them.  \_Uxeunt. 


Scene  VIII.  —  Cajnp  of  the  Imperialists. 

Captain  and  Eirst  Officer. 

EiRST  Officer.  They  flee  from  afar  toward  the 
camp. 

Captain.  He  is  most  hkely  hard  at  their  heels  — 
Draw  out  fifty  as  far  as  the  mill :  if  he  follows  up  the 
pursuit  too  far,  you  may  perhaps  entrap  him. 

[Uxit  Officer. 

TJie  Second  Officer  is  home  in. 

Captain.  How  now,  my  young  sir  —  have  you  got 
a  cracked  headpiece  ? 

Officer.  A  plague  upon  you  !  The  stoutest  helmet 
went  to  shivers  like  glass.  The  demon  !  —  he  ran  upon 
me  as  if  he  would  strike  me  into  the  earth ! 


302  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

Captain.  Thank  God  that  you  have  escaped  with 
your  hfe. 

Officee,  There  is  httle  left  to  be  thankful  for  :  two 
of  my  ribs  are  broken  —  where's  the  surgeon  ? 

[He  is  carried  off. 

Scene  IX.  —  Jaxthausen. 

Enter  Goetz  and  Selbitz. 

GoETZ.     And  what  say  you  to  the  ban,  Selbitz  ? 

Selbitz.     'Tis  a  trick  of  Weislingen's. 

Goetz.     Do  you  think  so  ? 

Selbitz.     I  do  not  think  —  I  know  it. 

Goetz.     How  so  ? 

Selbitz.  He  was  at  the  diet,  I  tell  thee,  and  near 
the  emperor's  person. 

Goetz.  Well,  then,  we  shall  frustrate  another  of 
his  schemes. 

Selbitz.     I  hope  so. 

Goetz.     We  will  away,  and  course  these  hares. 


Scene  X.  —  The  Imperial  Camp. 

Captain,  Officers,  and  Followers. 

Captain.  We  shall  gain  nothing  at  this  work,  sirs  ! 
He  beats  one  troop  after  another ;  and  whoever  escapes 
death  or  captivity,  would  rather  flee  to  Turkey  than 
return  to  the  camp.  Thus  our  force  diminishes  daily. 
We  must  attack  him  once  for  all,  and  in  earnest  —  I 
will  go  myself,  and  he  shall  find  with  whom  he  has  to 
deal. 

Officer.  We  are  all  content ;  but  he  is  so  well 
acquainted  with  the  country,  and  knows  every  path 
and  ravine  so  thoroughly,  that  he  will  be  as  difficult 
to  find  as  a  rat  in  a  barn. 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  303 

Captain.  I  warrant  you  we'll  ferret  him  out.  On 
toward  Jaxtliausen !  Whether  he  like  it  or  not,  he 
must  come  to  defend  his  castle. 

Officer.     Shall  our  whole  force  march  ? 

Captain.  Yes,  certainly  —  do  you  know  that  a 
hundred  of  us  are  melted  away  already  ? 

Officer.  Then,  let  us  away  with  speed,  before  the 
whole  snowball  dissolves ;  for  this  is  warm  work,  and 
we  stand  here  hke  butter  in  the  sunshine. 

^Uxe2cnt.     A  march  sounded. 

Scene  XI.  —  Mountains  and  a   Wood. 

GoETz,  Selbitz,  and  Troopers. 

GoETZ.  They  are  coming  in  full  force.  It  was  high 
time  that  Sickingen's  troopers  joined  us. 

Selbitz.  We  wiU  divide  our  party  —  I  will  take 
the  left  hand  by  the  hill. 

Goetz.  Good  —  and  do  thou,  Lerse,  lead  fifty  men 
straight  through  the  wood  on  the  right.  They  are 
coming  across  the  heath  —  I  will  draw  up  opposite  to 
them.  George,  stay  by  me  —  when  you  see  them 
attack  me,  then  fall  upon  their  flank :  we'll  beat  the 
knaves  into  a  mummy  —  they  little  think  we  can  face 
them.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  XII.  —  A  Heath.  On  one  side  an  Utninence 
with  a  ruined  Tower,  on  the  other  the  Forest. 

Enter,  marching,  the  Captain  of  the  Imperialists  with 
Officers  and  his  Squadron.  —  Drums  and  stand- 
ards. 

Captain.  He  halts  upon  the  heath !  that's  too 
impudent.  He  shall  smart  for  it  —  what !  not  fear  the 
torrent  that  threatens  to  overwhelm  him  ! 


304  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

Officee.  I  had  rather  you  did  not  head  the  troops : 
he  looks  as  if  he  meant  to  plant  the  first  that  comes 
upuu  him  in  the  mire  with  his  head  downmost. 
Prithee  ride  in  the  rear. 

Captain.     Not  so. 

Officer.  I  entreat  you.  You  are  the  knot  which 
unites  this  bundle  of  hazel-twigs :  loose  it,  and  he  will 
break  them  separately  like  so  many  reeds. 

Captain.  Sound,  trumpeter  —  and  let  us  blow  him 
to  hell !  [-4  charge  sounded.    Exeunt  in  full  career. 

Selbitz,  with  his  Troopers,  comes  from  behind  the  hill 

galloping. 

Selbitz.  Follow  me !  They  shall  wish  that  they 
could  multiply  their  hands. 

[ThcT/  gallop  across  the  stage,  et  exeunt. 

Loud  alarm.     Lerse  and  his  party  sally  from  the  wood. 

Lerse.  Ho  !  to  the  rescue !  Goetz  is  almost  sur- 
rounded. —  Gallant  Selbitz,  thou  hast  cut  thy  way  — 
we  will  sow  the  heath  with  these  thistle-heads. 

[Gallop  off. 

A  loud  alarm  with  shouting  and  f  ring  for  some  minutes. 
Selbitz  is  borne  in  wounded,  by  two  Troopers. 

Selbitz.     Leave  me  here,  and  hasten  to  Goetz. 

First  Trooper.  Let  us  stay,  sir  —  you  need  our 
aid. 

Selbitz.  Get  one  of  you  on  the  watch-tower,  and 
tell  me  how  it  goes. 

First  Trooper.     How  shall  I  get  up  ? 

Second  Trooper.  Mount  upon  my  shoulders  —  you 
can  then  reach  the  ruined  part,  and  thence  scramble  up 
to  the  opening. 

[First  Trooper  gets  up  into  the  tower. 

First  Trooper.     Alas,  sir  ! 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  305 

Selbitz.     What  seest  thou  ? 

First  Trooper.     Your  troopers  fly  toward  the  hill. 

Selbitz.  Rascally  cowards  !  —  1  would  that  they 
stood  their  ground,  and  I  had  a  ball  through  my  head. 
—  Eide,  one  of  you,  full  speed  —  Curse  and  thunder 
them  back  to  the  field  —     Seest  thou  Goetz  ? 

[Exit  Second  Trooper. 

Trooper.  I  see  his  three  black  feathers  floating  in 
the  midst  of  the  wavy  tumult. 

Selbitz.      Swim,  brave  swimmer  —  I  lie  here. 

Trooper.     A  white  plume  —  whose  is  that  ? 

Selbitz.     The  captain's. 

Trooper.  Goetz  gallops  upon  him  —  crash  !  Down 
he  goes. 

Selbitz.     The  captain  ? 

Trooper.     Yes,  sir. 

Selbitz.     Hurrah!  Hurrah! 

Trooper.     Alas  !  alas !     I  see  Goetz  no  more. 

Selbitz.     Then  die,  Selbitz ! 

Trooper.  A  dreadful  tumult  where  he  stood  — 
George's  blue  plume  vanishes  too. 

Selbitz.     Come  down  !     Dost  thou  not  see  Lerse  ? 

Trooper.     No.  —  Everything  is  in  confusion. 

Selbitz.  No  more.  Come  down.  —  How  do  Sick- 
ingen's  men  bear  themselves  ? 

Trooper.  Well ;  one  of  them  flies  to  the  wood  — 
another  —  another  —  a  whole  troop.     Goetz  is  lost ! 

Selbitz.     Come  down. 

Trooper.  I  cannot  —  Hurrah !  hurrah !  I  see 
Goetz,  I  see  George. 

Selbitz.     On  horseback  ? 

Trooper.  Ay,  ay,  high  on  horseback  —  Victory ! 
victory  !  —  they  flee. 

Selbitz.     The  Imperiahsts  ? 

Trooper.  Yes,  standard  and  all,  Goetz  behind 
them.  They  disperse  —  Goetz  reaches  the  ensign  — 
he  seizes  the  standard:  he  halts.     A  handful  of  men 


3o6  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

rally  round  him  —     My  comrade  reaches  him  —  they 
come  this  way. 

Enter  Goetz,  Geokge,  Lerse,  and  Troopers,  on  horse- 
back. 

Selbitz.     Joy  to  thee,  Goetz  !  —  Victory  !    victory  ! 

Goetz  (dismounting).  Dearly,  dearly  bought.  Thou 
art  wounded,  Selbitz ! 

Selbitz.  But  thou  dost  live  and  hast  conquered ! 
I  have  done  little ;  and  my  dogs  of  troopers !  How 
hast  thou  come  off  ? 

Goetz.  For  the  present,  well !  And  here  I  thank 
George,  and  thee,  Lerse,  for  my  Hfe.  I  unhorsed  the 
captain :  they  stabbed  my  horse,  and  pressed  me  hard. 
George  cut  his  way  to  me,  and  sprang  off  his  horse.  I 
threw  myself  like  lightning  upon  it,  and  he  appeared 
suddenly  like  a  thunderbolt  upon  another.  How 
earnest  thou  hy  thy  steed  ? 

George.  A  fellow  struck  at  you  from  behind :  as 
he  raised  his  cuirass  in  the  act,  I  stabbed  him  with 
my  dagger.  Down  he  came ;  and  so  I  rid  you  of  an 
enemy,  and  helped  myself  to  a  horse. 

Goetz.  There  we  held  together  till  Francis  here 
came  to  our  help,  and  thereupon  we  mowed  our  way 
out. 

Lerse.  The  hounds  whom  I  led  were  to  have 
mowed  their  way  in,  till  our  scythes  met ;  but  they 
fled  hke  Imperialists. 

Goetz.  Friend  and  foe  all  fled,  except  this  little 
band  who  protected  my  rear.  I  had  enough  to  do 
with  the  fellows  in  front,  but  the  fall  of  their  captain 
dismayed  them :  they  wavered  and  fled.  I  have  their 
banner,  and  a  few  prisoners. 

Selbitz.     The  captain  has  escaped  you  ? 

Goetz.  They  rescued  him  in  the  scuffle.  Come, 
lads,  come,  Selbitz.  —  Make  a  litter  of  lances  and 
boughs :  thou  canst  not  mount  a  horse,  come  to  my 


GOETZ   VON   BERLICHINGEN  307 

castle.  They  are  scattered,  but  we  are  very  few ;  and 
I  know  not  what  troops  they  may  have  in  reserve.  I 
will  be  your  host,  my  friends.  Wine  will  taste  well 
after  such  an  action.  [IJxeunt,  carryiiig  Selbitz. 


Scene  XIII.  —  The  Camjp. 

The  Captain  and  Impeeialists. 

Captain.  I  could  kill  you  all  with  my  own  hand. 
-—What!  to  turn  tail!  He  had  not  a  handful  of  men 
left.  To  give  way  before  one  man !  No  one  will 
beheve  it  but  those  who  wish  to  make  a  jest  of  us. 
Ride  round  the  country,  you,  and  you,  and  you  :  collect 
our  scattered  soldiers,  or  cut  them  down  wherever  you 
find  them.  We  must  grind  these  notches  out  of  our 
blades,  even  should  we  spoil  our  swords  in  the  opera- 
tion. \_Exeunt. 

Scene  XIV.  —  Jaxthausen. 

Goetz,  Lerse,  and  George. 

Goetz.  We  must  not  lose  a  moment.  My  poor 
fellows,  I  dare  allow  you  no  rest.  Gallop  round  and 
strive  to  enlist  troopers,  appoint  them  to  assemble  at 
Weilern,  where  they  will  be  most  secure.  Should  we 
delay  a  moment,  they  will  be  before  the  castle.  —  {Ex- 
eunt Leese  and  Geoege.)  —  I  must  send  out  a  scout. 
This  begins  to  grow  warm.  —  If  we  had  but  brave  foe- 
men  to  deal  with !  But  these  fellows  are  formidable 
only  through  their  number.  \_Exit. 

Enter  Sickingen  and  Maria. 

Maeia.  I  beseech  thee,  dear  Sickingen,  do  not 
leave  my  brother !  His  horsemen,  your  own,  and 
those  of  Selbitz,  all  are  scattered :  he  is  alone.     Selbitz 


3o8  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

has  been  carried  home  to  his  castle  wounded.     I  fear 
the  worst. 

SiCKiNGEN.     Be  comforted :  I  will  not  leave  him. 

Enter  Goetz. 

GoETZ.     Come  to  the  chapel,  the  priest  waits :  in  a 
few  minutes  you  shall  be  united. 

SiCKiNGEN.     Let  me  remain  with  you. 

Goetz.     You  must  come  now  to  the  chapeL 

SiCKiNGEN.     Willingly  !  —  and  then  — 

Goetz.     Then  you  go  your  way. 

SiCKiNGEN.     Goetz ! 

Goetz.     Will  you  not  to  the  chapel  ? 

SiCKiNGEN.     Come,  come !  [Exeunt 


Scene  XV.  —  Camp. 

Captain  and  Officers. 

Captain.     How  many  are  we  in  all  ? 

Officer.     A  hundred  and  fifty  — 

Captain.  Out  of  four  hundred.  —  That  is  bad.  Set 
out  for  Jaxthausen  at  once,  before  he  recovers,  and 
attacks  us  once  more. 


Scene  XVI.  —  Jaxthausen. 

Goetz,  Elizabeth,  Maria,  and  Sickingen, 

Goetz.  God  bless  you,  give  you  happy  days,  and 
keep  those  for  your  children  which  he  denies  to  you ! 

Elizabeth.  And  may  they  be  virtuous  as  you  — 
then  let  come  what  will. 

Sickingen.  I  thank  you.  —  And  you,  my  Maria  ! 
As  I  led  you  to  the  altar,  so  shall  you  lead  me  to  hap- 
piness. 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  309 

Makia.  Our  pilgrimage  will  be  together  toward 
that  distant  and  promised  land. 

GoETZ.  A  prosperous  journey. 

Makia.  That  was  not  what  I  meant  —  we  do  not 
leave  you. 

GoETZ.  You  must,  sister. 

Maria.  You  are  very  harsh,  brother. 

GoETZ.  And  you  more  affectionate  than  prudent. 

Enter  George. 

George  {aside  to  Goetz).  I  can  collect  no  troopers : 
one  was  inclined  to  come,  but  he  changed  his  mind, 
and  refused. 

Goetz  {to  George).  'Tis  well,  George.  Fortune 
begins  to  look  coldly  on  me,  I  foreboded  it,  however. 
{Aloud)  Sickingen,  I  entreat  you,  depart  this  very 
evening.  Persuade  Maria.  —  You  are  her  husband  : 
let  her  feel  it.  When  women  come  across  our  under- 
takings, our  enemies  are  more  secure  in  the  open  field, 
than  they  would  else  be  in  their  castles. 

Enter  a  Trooper. 

Trooper  {aside  to  Goetz).  The  Imperial  squadron 
is  in  full  and  rapid  march  hither. 

Goetz.  I  have  roused  them  with  stripes  of  the  rod ! 
How  many  are  they  ? 

Trooper.  About  two  hundred.  They  can  scarcely 
be  six  miles  from  us. 

Goetz.     Have  they  passed  the  river  yet  ? 

Trooper.     No,  my  lord. 

Goetz.  Had  I  but  fifty  men,  they  should  not  cross 
it.     Hast  thou  seen  Lerse  ? 

Trooper.     No,  my  lord. 

Goetz.  Tell  all  to  hold  themselves  ready.  We 
must  part,  dear  friends.  Weep  on,  my  gentle  Maria. 
Many  a  moment  of  happiness  is  yet  in  store  for  thee. 
It  is  better  thou  shouldst  weep  on  thy  wedding-day, 


3IO  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

than  that  present  joy  should  be  the  forerunner  of 
future  misery.     Farewell,  Maria  !  —  Farewell,  brother  ! 

Makia.  I  cannot  leave  you,  sister.  Dear  brother, 
let  us  stay.  Dost  thou  value  my  husband  so  little  as 
to  refuse  his  help  in  thy  extremity  ? 

GoETZ.  Yes :  it  is  gone  far  with  me.  Perhaps  my 
fall  is  near.  You  are  but  beginning  life,  and  should 
separate  your  lot  from  mine.  I  have  ordered  your 
horses  to  be  saddled :  you  must  away  instantly. 

Maria.     Brother!  brother! 

Elizabeth  {to  Sickingen).  Yield  to  his  wishes. 
Speak  to  her. 

Sickingen.     Dear  Maria  !  we  must  go. 

Maria.     Thou  too  ?     My  heart  will  break  ! 

GoETZ.  Then,  stay.  In  a  few  hours  my  castle  will 
be  surrounded. 

Maria  [weeping  hitterly).     Alas !  alas  ! 

GoETZ.  We  will  defend  ourselves  as  long  as  we 
can. 

Maria.     Mother  of  God,  have  mercy  upon  us. 

GoETZ.  And  at  last  we  must  die  or  surrender. 
Thy  tears  will  then  have  involved  thy  noble  husband 
in  the  same  misfortune  with  me. 

Maria.     Thou  torture  st  me  ! 

GoETZ.  Eemain  !  Eemain  !  We  shall  be  taken  to- 
gether !  Sickingen,  thou  wilt  fall  with  me  into  the 
pit,  out  of  which  I  had  hoped  thou  shouldst  have 
helped  me. 

Maria.     We  will  away  —    Sister  —  sister ! 

GoETZ.     Place  her  in  safety,  and  then  think  of  me. 

Sickingen.  Never  will  I  repose  a  night  by  her  side 
till  I  know  thou  art  out  of  danger. 

GoETZ.     Sister  1  dear  sister.  [^Kisses  her. 

Sickingen.     Away  !  away  ! 

GoETZ.  Yet  one  moment !  I  shall  see  you  again. 
Be  comforted,  we  shall  meet  again.  {Exeunt  Sickingen 
and  Maria.)     I  urged  her  to  depart  —  yet  now  that 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  311 

she  leaves  me,  what  would  I  not  give  to  detain  her ! 
EMzabeth,  thou  stayest  with  me. 

Elizabeth.     Till  death !  [JExit. 

GoETZ.  Whom  God  loves,  to  him  may  He  give  such 
a  wife. 

JSnter  George, 

Geoege.  They  are  near !  I  perceived  them  from 
the  tower.  The  sun  is  rising,  and  I  saw  their  lances 
glitter.  I  cared  no  more  for  them  than  a  cat  would 
for  a  whole  army  of  mice.  It  is  we,  though,  who  act 
the  rats  in  this  play. 

GoETZ.  Look  to  the  fastenings  of  the  gates :  barri- 
cade them  with  beams  and  stones.  (Uxit  George.) 
We'll  exercise  their  patience,  and  they  may  chew  away 
their  valour  in  biting  their  nails.  (A  trumpet  fro7n 
without.  GoETZ  goes  to  the  window.)  Aha !  Here 
comes  a  red-coated  rascal  to  ask  me  whether  I  will  be  a 
scoundrel !  What  says  he  ?  {Tlie  voice  of  the  Herald 
is  heard  indistinctly,  as  from  a  distance.  Goetz  mut- 
ters to  himself.)  A  rope  for  thy  throat !  ( Voice  again.) 
"  Offended  majesty  ! "  —  Some  priest  has  drawn  up  that 
proclamation.  ( Voice  concludes,  and  Goetz  aiisvjcrs 
from  the  tvindow.)  Surrender  —  surrender  at  discre- 
tion !  With  whom  speak  you  ?  Am  I  a  robber  ?  Tell 
your  captain,  that  for  the  emperor  I  entertain,  as  I  have 
ever  done,  all  due  respect ;  but,  as  for  him,  he  may  — 

\^Shuts  the  luindoiv  with  violence. 

Scene  XVII.  —  The  Kitchen. 

Elizabeth  preparing  food.     Enter  Goetz. 

Goetz.     You  have  hard  work,  my  poor  wife  ! 
Elizabeth.     Would   it   might   last !    But  you  can 
hardly  hold  out  long. 

Goetz.     We  have  not  had  time  to  provide  ourselves. 


312  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

Elizabeth.  And  so  many  people  as  you  have  been 
wont  to  entertain.     The  wine  is  well-nigh  finished. 

GoETZ.  If  we  can  but  hold  out  a  certain  time,  they 
must  propose  a  capitulation.  We  are  doing  them  some 
damage,  I  promise  you.  They  shoot  the  whole  day, 
and  only  wound  our  walls  and  break  our  windows. 
Lerse  is  a  gallant  fellow.  He  shps  about  with  his  gun  : 
if  a  rogue  comes  too  nigh  —  Pop  !  there  he  lies  ! 

[Firing. 

Enter  Teoopek. 

Trooper.     We  want  hve  coals,  precious  lady  ! 
GoETZ.     For  what  ? 

Trooper.  Our  bullets  are  spent :  we  must  cast  some 
new  ones. 

GoETZ.     How  goes  it  with  the  powder  ? 
Trooper.     There  is  as  yet  no  want :   we  save  our 
fire. 

[Firing  at  intervals.     Exeunt  Goetz  and  Eliza- 
beth. 

Enter  Lerse  with  a  hullet-mould.     Sei^vants  with  coals. 

Lerse.  Set  them  down,  and  then  go  and  see  for  lead 
about  the  house:  meanwhile  I  will  make  shift  with 
this.  {Goes  to  the  ivindow,  and  takes  out  the  leaden 
frames.)  Everything  must  be  turned  to  account.  So 
it  is  in  this  world  —  no  one  knows  what  a  thing  may 
come  to:  the  glazier  who  made  these  frames  little 
thought  that  the  lead  here  was  to  give  one  of  his 
grandsons  his  last  headache ;  and  the  father  that  begot 
me  little  knew  whether  the  fowls  of  heaven  or  the 
worms  of  the  earth  would  pick  my  bones. 

Enter  George  with  a  leaden  spout. 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  313 

George.  Here's  lead  for  thee  !  If  you  hit  with  only 
half  of  it,  not  one  will  return  to  tell  his  Majesty  "  Thy 
servants  have  sped  ill ! " 

Lekse  {cutting  it  down).     A  famous  piece ! 

George.  The  rain  must  seek  some  other  way.  I'm 
not  afraid  of  it  —  a  brave  trooper  and  a  smart  shower 
will  always  find  their  road.  [They  cast  halls. 

Lerse.  Hold  the  ladle.  {Goes  to  the  window) 
Yonder  is  a  fellow  creeping  about  with  his  rifle :  he 
thinks  our  fire  is  spent.  He  shall  have  a  bullet  warm 
from  the  pan.  [He  loads  Ms  rifle. 

George  {^ids  down  the  mould).     Let  me  see. 

Lerse.     {Fires.)     There  lies  the  game  ! 

George.  He  fired  at  me  as  I  stepped  out  on  the 
roof  to  get  the  lead.  He  killed  a  pigeon  that  sat  near 
me  :  it  fell  into  the  spout.  I  thanked  him  for  my  din- 
ner, and  went  back  with  the  double  booty. 

[TJicy  cast  balls. 

Lerse.  Now  let  us  load,  and  go  through  the  castle 
to  earn  our  dinner. 

Unter  Goetz. 

GoETZ.  Stay,  Lerse,  I  must  speak  with  thee.  I 
will  not  keep  thee,  George,  from  the  sport. 

[Uxit  George. 

Goetz.     They  offer  terms. 

Lerse.     I  will  go  and  hear  what  they  have  to  say. 

Goetz.  They  will  require  me  to  enter  myself  into 
ward  in  some  town  on  my  knightly  parole. 

Lerse.  That  won't  do.  Suppose  they  allow  us  free 
liberty  of  departure  ?  for  we  can  expect  no  relief  from 
Sickingen.  We  will  bury  all  the  valuables  where  no 
divining-rod  shall  find  them ;  leave  them  the  bare 
walls,  and  come  out  with  flying  colours. 

Goetz.     They  will  not  permit  us. 

Lerse.  It  is  worth  the  asking.  We  will  demand  a 
safe  conduct,  and  I  wiU  sally  out. 


314  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

Scene  XVIIL  — ^  Hall. 

GoETZ,  Elizabeth,  Geoege,  and  Troopers  at  table. 

GoETZ.  Danger  unites  us,  my  friends  !  Be  of  good 
cheer :  don't  forget  the  bottle !  The  flask  is  empty. 
Come,  another,  dear  wife !  (Elizabeth  shakes  her 
head.)     Is  there  no  more  ? 

Elizabeth  (aside).  Only  one,  which  I  have  set 
apart  for  you. 

GoETZ.  Not  so,  my  love !  Bring  it  out :  they  need 
strengthening  more  than  I,  for  it  is  my  quarrel. 

Elizabeth.     Fetch  it  from  the  cupboard. 

GoETZ.  It  is  the  last,  and  I  feel  as  if  we  need  not 
spare  it.  It  is  long  since  I  have  been  so  merry.  (TJiey 
Jill.)     To  the  health  of  the  emperor ! 

All.     Long  hve  the  emperor ! 

GoETZ.  Be  it  our  last  word  when  we  die !  I  love 
him,  for  our  fate  is  similar ;  but  I  am  happier  than  he. 
To  please  the  princes,  he  must  direct  his  imperial 
squadrons  against  mice,  while  the  rats  gnaw  his  pos- 
sessions. —  I  know  he  often  wishes  himself  dead, 
rather  than  to  be  any  longer  the  soul  of  such  a  crip- 
pled body.  {They  fill.)  It  will  just  go  once  more 
round.  And  when  our  blood  runs  low,  like  this  flask ; 
when  we  pour  out  its  last  ebbing  drop  (emjMes  the  wine 
drop  hy  drop  into  his  goblet),  —  what  then  shall  be  our 
cfy? 

George.     Freedom  for  ever ! 

GoETZ.     Freedom  for  ever  ! 

All.     Freedom  for  ever  ! 

GoETZ.  And,  if  that  survive  us,  we  can  die  happy ; 
for  our  spirits  shall  see  our  children's  children  and 
their  emperor  happy !  Did  the  servants  of  princes 
show  the  same  filial  attachment  to  their  masters  as 
you  to  me  —  did  their  masters  serve  the  emperor  as 
I  would  serve  him  — 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  315 

George.  Things  would  be  widely  different. 
GoETZ.  Not  so  much  so  as  it  would  appear.  Have 
I  not  known  worthy  men  among  the  princes  ?  And  can 
the  race  be  extinct  ?  Men,  happy  in  their  own  minds 
and  in  their  subjects,  who  could  bear  a  free,  noble 
brother  in  their  neighbourhood  without  harbouring 
either  fear  or  envy  ;  whose  hearts  expanded  when  they 
saw  their  table  surrounded  by  their  free  equals,  and 
who  did  not  think  the  knights  unfit  companions  till 
they  had  degraded  themselves  by  courtly  homage. 

George.     Have  you  known  such  princes  ? 

GoETZ.  Ay,  truly.  As  long  as  I  live  I  shall  recol- 
lect how  the  Landgrave  of  Hanau  gave  a  grand  hunt- 
ing-party, and  the  princes  and  free  feudatories  dined 
under  the  open  heaven,  and  the  country  people  all 
thronged  to  see  them :  it  was  no  selfish  masquerade 
instituted  for  his  own  private  pleasure  or  vanity.  To 
see  the  great  round-headed  peasant  lads  and  the  pretty 
brown  girls,  the  sturdy  hinds,  and  the  venerable  old 
men,  a  crowd  of  happy  faces,  all  as  merry  as  if  they 
rejoiced  in  the  splendour  of  their  master,  which  he 
shared  with  them  under  God's  free  sky ! 

George,  He  must  have  been  as  good  a  master  as 
you. 

GoETZ.  And  may  we  not  hope  that  many  such  will 
rule  together  some  future  day,  to  whom  reverence  for 
the  emperor,  peace  and  friendship  with  their  neighbours, 
and  the  love  of  their  vassals,  shall  be  the  best  and 
dearest  family  treasure  handed  down  to  their  children's 
children  ?  Every  one  will  then  keep  and  improve  his 
own,  instead  of  reckoning  nothing  as  gain  that  is  not 
stolen  from  his  neighbours. 

George.     And  should  we  have  no  more  forays  ? 

GoETZ.  Would  to  God  there  were  no  restless  spirits 
in  all  Germany !  —  we  should  still  have  enough  to  do  ! 
We  would  clear  the  mountains  of  wolves,  and  bring 
our  peaceable  laborious  neighbour  a  dish  of  game  from 


3i6  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

the  wood,  and  eat  it  together.  Were  that  not  full  em- 
ployment, we  would  join  our  brethren,  and,  like  cheru- 
bims  with  flaming  swords,  defend  the  frontiers  of  the 
empire  against  those  wolves  the  Turks,  and  those  foxes 
the  French,  and  guard  for  our  beloved  emperor  both 
extremities  of  his  extensive  empire.  That  would  be  a 
hfe,  George !  To  risk  one's  head  for  the  safety  of  all 
Germany.     (George  springs  up)     Whither  away  ? 

George.  Alas  !  I  forgot  we  were  besieged  —  be- 
sieged by  the  very  emperor ;  and,  before  we  can  expose 
our  hves  in  his  defence,  we  must  risk  them  for  our 
liberty. 

GoETZ.     Be  of  good  cheer. 

Enter  Lerse. 

Lerse.  Freedom !  freedom !  The  cowardly  pol- 
troons—  the  hesitating,  irresolute  asses.  You  are  to 
depart  with  men,  weapons,  horses,  and  armour :  pro- 
visions you  are  to  leave  behind. 

GoETZ.  They  will  hardly  find  enough  to  exercise 
their  jaws. 

Lerse  {aside  to  Goetz).  Have  you  hidden  the  plate 
and  monev  ? 

Goetz.  No  !  Wife,  go  with  Lerse :  he  has  some- 
thing to  tell  thee.  [Exeunt. 


Scene  XIX.  —  The  Court  of  the  Castle. 

George  {in  the  stable.     Sings). 

An  urchin  once,  as  I  have  heard. 

Ha!  ha! 
Had  caught  and  caged  a  little  bird, 

Sa!  sa! 

Ha!  ha! 

Sa!  sa! 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  317 

He  viewed  the  prize  with  heart  elate, 

Ha!  ha! 
Thrust  in  his  hand  —  ah,  treacherous  fate ! 

Sa!  sa! 

Ha!  ha! 

Sa !  sa ! 
Away  the  titmouse  winged  its  flight, 

Ha!  ha! 
And  laughed  to  scorn  the  silly  wight, 

Sa !  sa ! 

Ha!  ha! 

Sa  !  sa ! 

Enter  GoETZ. 

GoETZ.     How  goes  it  ? 

George  {brings  out  his  horse).     All  saddled. 

GoETZ.     Thou  art  quick. 

George.     As  the  bird  escaped  from  the  cage. 

Enter  all  the  besieged. 

GoETZ.  Have  you  all  your  rifles  ?  Not  yet !  Go, 
take  the  best  from  the  armory  ;  it  is  all  one :  we'll  ride 
on  in  advance. 

George  (sings). 

Ha!  ha  I 
Sa!  sa! 
Ha!  ha! 


/ 


Scene  XX.  —  The  Armory. 

Two  Troopers  choosing  guns. 

First  Trooper.     I'll  have  this  one. 

Second   Trooper.      And   I   this  —  but   yonder's  a 


better. 


3i8  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

FiEST  Tkooper.     Never  mind  —  make  haste. 

[Tumult  and  firing  without. 

Second  Trooper.     Hark ! 

First  Trooper  {springs  to  the  ivindow).  Good  heav- 
ens, they  are  murdering  our  master  !  He  is  unhorsed ! 
George  is  down. 

Second  Trooper.  How  shall  we  get  off?  Over 
the  wall  by  the  walnut-tree,  and  into  the  field. 

[Exit. 

First  Trooper.  Lerse  keeps  his  ground :  I  will  to 
him.     If  they  die,  I  will  not  survive  them.  [Exit. 

ACT   IV. 

Scene  I.  —  An  Inn  in  the  City  of  Heilbronn. 

GoETZ  (solus). 

GoETZ.  I  am  like  the  evil  spirit  whom  the  Capu- 
chin conjured  into  a  sack.  I  fret  and  labour,  but  all  in 
vain.  The  perjured  villains  !  {Enter  Elizabeth.)  What 
news,  Elizabeth,  of  my  dear,  my  trusty  followers  ? 

Elizabeth.  Nothing  certain :  some  are  slain,  some 
are  prisoners ;  no  one  could  or  would  tell  me  further 
particulars. 

GoETZ.  Is  this  the  reward  of  fidelity,  of  fihal  obe- 
dience ?  — "  That  it  may  be  well  with  thee,  and  that 
thy  days  may  be  long  in  the  land ! " 

Elizabeth.  Dear  husband,  murmur  not  against  our 
heavenly  Father.  They  have  their  reward.  It  was 
born  with  them,  —  a  noble  and  generous  heart.  Even 
in  the  dungeon  they  are  free.  Pay  attention  to  the 
imperial  commissioners :  their  heavy  gold  chains  be- 
come them  — 

Goetz.  As  a  necklace  becomes  a  sow !  I  should 
like  to  see  George  and  Lerse  in  fetters ! 

Elizabeth.     It  were  a  sight  to  make  angels  weep. 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  3^9 

GoETZ.  I  would  not  weep  —  I  would  clinch  my 
teeth,  and  gnaw  my  lip  in  fury.  What !  in  fetters  ? 
Had  ye  but  loved  me  less,  dear  lads !  I  could  never 
look  at  them  enough  .  .  .  What !  to  break  their  word, 
pledged  in  the  name  of  the  emperor ! 

Elizabeth.  Put  away  these  thoughts.  Eeflect: 
you  must  appear  before  the  council  —  you  are  in  no 
mood  to  meet  them,  and  I  fear  the  worst. 

GoETZ.     What  harm  can  they  do  me  ? 

Elizabeth.     Here  comes  the  sergeant. 

GoETZ.  What!  the  ass  of  justice  that  carries  the 
sacks  to  the  mill  and  the  dung  to  the  field  ?  What 
now  ? 

Enter  Sergeant. 

Sergeant.     The    lords  commissioners    are    at    the 
Council  House,  and  require  your  presence. 
Goetz.     I  come. 
Sergeant.     I  am  to  escort  you. 
Goetz.     Too  much  honour. 
Elizabeth.     Be  but  cool. 
Goetz.     Fear  nothing.  [Exeunt 


Scene  II.  —  Tlie  Town  House  at  Heilbronn., 

The  Imperial  Commissioners  seated  at  a  table.     Tlie 
Captain  and  the  Magistrates  of  the  city  attending. 

Magistrate.  In  pursuance  of  your  order,  we  have 
collected  the  stoutest  and  most  determined  of  our  citi- 
zens. They  are  at  hand,  in  order,  at  a  nod  from  you, 
to  seize  Berlichingen. 

Commissioner.  We  shall  have  much  pleasure  in 
communicating  to  his  Imperial  Majesty  the  zeal  with 
which  you  have  obeyed  his  illustrious  commands. — 
Are  they  artisans  ? 


320  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

Magistrate.  Smiths,  coopers,  and  carpenters,  men 
with  hands  hardened  by  labour ;  and  resolute  here. 

[Points  to  his  breast. 
Commissioner.     'Tis  well. 

Enter  Sergeant. 

Sergeant.     Goetz  von  Berlichingen  waits  without. 
Commissioner.     Admit  him. 

Unter  GoETZ. 

Goetz.  God  save  you,  sirs !  What  would  you  with 
me? 

Commissioner.  First,  that  you  consider  where  you 
are,  and  in  whose  presence. 

Goetz.     By  my  faith,  I  know  you  right  well,  sirs. 

Commissioner.     You  acknowledge  allegiance. 

Goetz.     With  all  my  heart. 

Commissioner.     Be  seated. 

Goetz.  What,  down  there  ?  I'd  rather  stand.  That 
stool  smells  so  of  poor  sinners,  as  indeed  does  the 
whole  apartment. 

Commissioner.     Stand,  then. 

Goetz.     To  business,  if  you  please. 

Commissioner.     We  shall  proceed  in  due  order. 

Goetz.  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  Would  you  had 
always  done  so. 

Commissioner.  You  know  how  you  fell  into  our 
hands,  and  are  a  prisoner  at  discretion. 

Goetz.     What  will  you  give  me  to  forget  it  ? 

Commissioner.  Could  I  give  you  modesty,  I  should 
better  your  affairs. 

Goetz.  Better  my  affairs !  could  you  but  do  that ! 
To  repair  is  more  difficult  than  to  destroy. 

Secretary.     Shall  I  put  all  this  on  record  ? 

Commissioner.     Only  what  is  to  the  purpose. 

Goetz.  You  may  put  it  in  print,  if  you  like :  what 
do  I  care ! 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  321 

Commissioner.  You  fell  into  the  power  of  the 
emperor,  whose  paternal  goodness  got  the  better  of  his 
justice,  and,  instead  of  throwing  you  into  a  dungeon, 
ordered  you  to  repair  to  his  beloved  city  of  Heilbronn. 
You  gave  your  knightly  parole  to  appear,  and  await 
the  termination  in  all  humility. 

GoETZ.     Well :  I  am  here,  and  await  it. 

Commissioner.  And  we  are  here  to  intimate  to  you 
his  Imperial  Majesty's  mercy  and  clemency.  He  is 
pleased  to  forgive  your  rebellion,  to  release  you  from 
the  ban  and  all  well-merited  punishment,  provided  you 
do,  with  becoming  humility,  receive  his  bounty,  and 
subscribe  to  the  articles  which  shall  be  read  unto  you. 

Goetz.  I  am  his  Majesty's  faithful  servant,  as  ever. 
One  word  ere  you  proceed.  My  people  —  where  are 
they  ?     What  mil  be  done  with  them  ? 

Commissioner.     That  concerns  you  not. 

Goetz.  So  may  the  emperor  turn  his  face  from  you 
in  the  hour  of  your  need.  They  were  my  comrades, 
and  are  so  now.    What  have  you  done  with  them  ? 

Commissioner.  We  are  not  bound  to  account  to 
you. 

Goetz.  Ah  !  I  forgot  that  you  are  not  even  pledged 
to  perform  what  you  have  promised,  much  less  — 

Commissioner.  Our  business  is,  to  lay  the  articles 
before  you.  Submit  yourself  to  the  emperor,  and  you 
may  find  a  way  to  petition  for  the  life  and  freedom  of 
your  comrades. 

Goetz.     Your  paper. 

Commissioner.     Secretary,  read  it. 

Secretary  {reads).  "  I,  Goetz  of  Berlichingen,  make 
public  acknowledgment,  by  these  presents,  that  I,  hav- 
ing lately  risen  in  rebellion  against  the  emperor  and 
empire  —  " 

Goetz.  'Tis  false  !  I  am  no  rebel,  I  have  committed 
no  offence  against  the  emperor,  and  with  the  empire  I 
have  no  concern. 


322  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

Commissioner.  Be  silent,  and  hear  further. 
GoETZ.  I  will  hear  no  further.  Let  any  one  arise 
and  bear  witness.  Have  I  ever  taken  one  step  against 
the  emperor,  or  against  the  house  of  Austria  ?  Has  not 
the  whole  tenor  of  my  conduct  proved  that  I  feel 
better  than  any  one  else  what  all  Germany  owes  to 
its  head,  and  especially  what  the  free  knights  and 
feudatories  owe  to  their  liege  lord  the  emperor  ?  I 
should  be  a  villain  could  I  be  induced  to  subscribe 
that  paper. 

Commissioner.     Yet  we  have  strict  orders  to  try 
and  persuade  you  by  fair  means,  or,  in  case   of  your 
refusal,  to  throw  you  into  prison. 
GoETZ.     Into  prison  !  —  Me  ? 

Commissioner.  Where  you  may  expect  your  fate 
from  the  hands  of  justice,  since  you  will  not  take  it 
from  those  of  mercy. 

GoETZ.  To  prison  !  You  abuse  the  imperial  power  ! 
To  prison!  That  was  not  the  emperor's  command. 
What,  ye  traitors,  to  dig  a  pit  for  me,  and  hang  out 
your  oath,  your  knightly  honour,  as  the  bait !  To  prom- 
ise me  permission  to  ward  myself  on  parole,  and  then 
again  to  break  your  treaty ! 

Commissioner.  We  owe  no  faith  to  robbers. 
GoETZ.  Wert  thou  not  the  representative  of  my 
sovereign,  whom  I  respect  even  in  the  vilest  counter- 
feit, thou  shouldst  swallow  that  word,  or  choke  upon  it. 
I  was  engaged  in  an  honourable  feud.  Thou  mightest 
thank  God,  and  magnify  thyself  before  the  world,  hadst 
thou  ever  done  as  gallant  a  deed  as  that  with  which  I 
now  stand  charged.  {Tlic  Commissioner  snakes  a  sign 
to  the  Magistrate  of  Heilbronn,  wlio  rings  a  hell.)  Not 
for  the  sake  of  paltry  gain,  not  to  wrest  followers  or 
lands  from  the  weak  and  the  defenceless,  have  I  sallied 
forth.  To  rescue  my  page  and  defend  my  own  person 
—  see  ye  any  rebellion  in  that  ?  The  emperor  and 
his  magnates,  reposing  on  their  pillows,  would  never 


one  p 


and 
r 


;>  of  paltry  p 
the  weak  anc 


Goeti  Resists  Arrest 

Photogravure  from  the  painting  by  13.  Knupfer,  in  Diisseldorf 

Gallery 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  323 

have  felt  our  need.     I  have,  God  be  praised,  one  hand 
left ;  and  I  have  done  well  to  use  it. 

Enter  a  jparty  of  Artisans  armed  with  halberds  and 

swords. 

GoETZ.     Wliat  means  this  ? 

Commissioner.    You  will  not  listen.  —  Seize  him  ! 

GoETZ.  Let  none  come  near  me  who  is  not  a  very 
Hungarian  ox.  One  salutation  from  my  iron  fist  shall 
cure  him  of  headache,  toothache,  and  every  other  ache 
under  the  wide  heaven  !  {TJiey  rush  upon  him.  He 
strikes  one  down,  and  sriatches  a  sword  from  another. 
Tlieij  stand  aloof.)  Come  on !  come  on  !  I  should 
like  to  become  acquainted  with  the  bravest  among  you. 

Commissioner.     Surrender ! 

GoETZ.  With  a  sword  in  my  hand  !  Know  ye  not 
that  it  depends  but  upon  myself  to  make  way  through 
all  these  hares  and  gain  the  open  field  ?  But  I  will 
teach  you  how  a  man  should  keep  his  word.  Promise 
me  but  free  ward,  and  I  will  give  up  my  sword,  and 
am  again  your  prisoner. 

Commissioner.  How!  Would  you  treat  with  the 
emperor,  sword  in  hand  ? 

GoETZ.  God  forbid !  —  only  with  you  and  your 
worthy  fraternity  !  You  may  go  home,  good  people : 
you  are  only  losing  your  time,  and  here  there  is  nothing 
to  be  got  but  bruises. 

Commissioner.  Seize  him  !  What !  does  not  your 
love  for  the  emperor  supply  you  with  courage  ? 

GoETZ.  No  more  than  the  emperor  supplies  them 
with  plaster  for  the  wounds  their  courage  would  earn 
them. 

Enter  Sergeant  hastily. 

Officer.  The  warder  has  just  discovered,  from  the 
castle  tower,  a  troop  of  more  than  two  hundred  horse- 


324  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

men  hastening  toward  the  town.  Unperceived  by  us, 
they  have  pressed  forward  from  behind  the  hill,  and 
threaten  our  walls. 

CoMMissiONEK.     Alas !  alas  !     What  can  this  mean  ? 

A  Soldier  enters. 

Soldier.  Francis  of  Sickingen  waits  at  the  draw- 
bridge, and  informs  you  that  he  has  heard  how  per- 
fidiously you  have  broken  your  word  to  his  brother-in- 
law,  and  how  the  Council  of  Heilbronn  have  aided  and 
abetted  in  the  treason.  He  is  now  come  to  insist  upon 
justice,  and,  if  refused  it,  threatens,  within  an  hour,  to 
fire  the  four  quarters  of  your  town,  and  abandon  it 
to  be  plundered  by  his  vassals. 

GoETZ.     My  gallant  brother  ! 

Commissioner.  Withdraw,  Goetz.  {Exit  Goetz.) 
What  is  to  be  done  ? 

Magistrate.  Have  compassion  upon  us  and  our 
town !  Sickingen  is  inexorable  in  his  wrath :  he  will 
keep  his  word. 

Commissioner.  Shall  we  forget  what  is  due  to  our- 
selves and  the  emperor  ? 

Captain.  If  we  had  but  men  to  enforce  it ;  but, 
situated  as  we  are,  a  show  of  resistance  would  only 
make  matters  worse.     It  is  better  for  us  to  yield. 

Magistrate.  Let  us  apply  to  Goetz  to  put  in  a 
good  word  for  us.  I  feel  as  though  I  saw  the  town 
already  in  flames. 

Commissioner.    Let  Goetz  approach.    {Enter  Goetz.) 

Goetz.     What  now  ? 

Commissioner.  Thou  wilt  do  well  to  dissuade  thy 
brother-in-law  from  his  rebellious  interference.  In- 
stead of  rescuing  thee,  he  will  only  plunge  thee  deeper 
in  destruction,  and  become  the  companion  of  thy  fall ! 

Goetz  {sees  Elizabeth  at  the  door,  and  speaks  to  her 
aside).  Go,  tell  him  instantly  to  break  in  and  force 
his  way  hither,  but  to  spare  the  town.     As  for  these 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  325 

rascals,  if  they  offer  any  resistance,  let  him  use  force. 
I  care  not  if  I  lose  my  life,  provided  they  are  all 
knocked  on  the  head  at  the  same  time. 


Scene  III.  —  A  large  Hall  in  the  Council-House, 
beset  ly  Sickingen's  Troops. 

Enter  Sickingen  and  Goetz. 

GOETZ.  That  was  help  from  heaven.  How  earnest 
thou  so  opportunely  and  unexpectedly,  brother  ? 

Sickingen.  Without  witchcraft.  I  had  despatched 
two  or  three  messengers  to  learn  how  it  fared  with 
thee:  when  I  heard  of  the  perjury  of  these  fellows, 
I  set  out  instantly ;  and  now  we  have  them  safe. 

Goetz,  I  ask  nothing  but  knightly  ward  upon  my 
parole. 

Sickingen.  You  are  too  noble.  Not  even  to  avail 
yourself  of  the  advantage  which  the  honest  man  has 
over  the  perjurer  !  They  are  in  the  wrong,  and  we  will 
not  give  them  cushions  to  sit  upon.  They  have  shame- 
fully abused  the  imperial  authority  ;  and,  if  I  know 
anything  of  the  emperor,  you  might  safely  insist  upon 
more  favourable  terms.     You  ask  too  little. 

Goetz.     I  have  ever  been  content  with  little. 

Sickingen.  And  therefore  that  little  has  always 
been  denied  thee.  My  proposal  is,  that  they  shall 
release  your  servants,  and  permit  you  all  to  return  to 
your  castle  on  parole  —  you  can  promise  not  to  leave 
it  till  the  emperor's  pleasure  be  known.  You  will  be 
safer  there  than  here. 

Goetz.  They  will  say  my  property  is  escheated  to 
the  emperor. 

Sickingen.  Then  we  will  answer,  thou  canst  dwell 
there,  and  keep  it  for  his  service  till  he  restores  it  to 
thee  again.      Let  them  wriggle  like  eels  in  the  net, 


326  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

they  shall  not  escape  us !  They  may  talk  of  the 
imperial  dignity  —  of  their  commission.  We  will  not 
mind  that.  I  know  the  emperor,  and  have  some 
influence  with  him.  He  has  ever  wished  to  have  thee 
in  his  service.  You  will  not  be  long  in  your  castle 
without  being  summoned  to  serve  him. 

GoETZ.     God  grant  it,  ere  I  forget  the  use  of  arms ! 

SiCKiNGEN.  Valour  can  never  be  forgotten,  as  it 
can  never  be  learnt.  Fear  nothing  !  When  thy  affairs 
are  settled,  I  will  repair  to  court,  where  my  enterprises 
begin  to  ripen.  Good  fortune  seems  to  smile  on  them. 
I  want  only  to  sound  the  emperor's  mind.  The  towns 
of  Triers  and  Pfalz  as  soon  expect  that  the  sky  should 
fall,  as  that  I  shall  come  down  upon  their  heads.  But 
I  will  come  like  a  hail-storm !  and,  if  I  am  successful, 
thou  shalt  soon  be  brother  to  an  elector.  I  had  hoped 
for  thy  assistance  in  this  undertaking. 

GoETZ  (looks  at  his  hand).  Oh !  that  explains  the 
dream  I  had  the  night  before  I  promised  Maria  to 
Weislingen.  I  thought  he  vowed  eternal  fidelity,  and 
held  my  iron  hand  so  fast  that  it  loosened  from  the 
arm.  Alas!  I  am  at  this  moment  more  defenceless 
than  when  it  was  shot  away.   Weislingen  !  Weishngen  ! 

SickinCtEN.  Forget  the  traitor  !  We  will  thwart  his 
plans,  and  undermine  his  authority,  till  shame  and 
remorse  shall  gnaw  him  to  death.  I  see,  I  see  the 
downfall  of  our  enemies.  —  Goetz,  only  other  six 
months ! 

Goetz.  Thy  soul  soars  high!  I  know  not  why, 
but  for  some  time  past  no  fair  prospects  have  dawned 
upon  me.  I  have  been  ere  now  in  sore  distress  —  I 
have  been  a  prisoner  before  —  but  never  did  I  experi- 
ence such  a  depression. 

SiCKiNGEN.  Success  givcs  courage.  Come,  let  us 
to  the  bigwigs.  They  have  had  time  enough  for  hold- 
ing forth :  let  us  for  once  take  the  trouble  upon  our- 
selves. [^Exeunt. 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  327 


Scene    IV.  —  The  Castle  of  Adelaide,  Augsburg. 

Adelaide  and  Weislingen  discovered. 

Adelaide.     This  is  detestable. 

Weislingen.  I  have  gnashed  my  teeth.  So  good 
a  plan  —  so  well  followed  out  —  and,  after  all,  to 
leave  him  in  possession  of  his  castle !  That  cursed 
Sickingeu ! 

Adelaide.     The  council  should  not  have  consented. 

Weislingen.  They  were  in  the  net.  What  else 
could  they  do  ?  Sickingen  threatened  them  with  fire 
and  sword  —  the  haughty,  vindictive  man !  I  hate 
him  !  His  power  waxes  like  a  mountain  torrent  —  let 
it  but  gain  a  few  brooks,  and  others  come  pouring  to 
its  aid. 

Adelaide.     Have  they  no  emperor  ? 

Weislingen.  My  dear  wife,  he  waxes  old  and 
feeble  :  he  is  only  the  shadow  of  what  he  was.  When 
he  heard  what  had  been  done,  and  1  and  the  other 
counsellors  murmured  indignantly,  "  Let  them  alone  !  " 
said  he :  "  I  can  spare  my  old  Goetz  his  little  fortress ; 
and,  if  he  remains  quiet  there,  what  have  you  to  say 
against  him  ?  "  We  spoke  of  the  welfare  of  the  state : 
"  Oh,"  said  he,  "  that  I  had  always  had  counsellors  who 
would  have  urged  my  restless  spirit  to  consult  more 
the  happiness  of  indi\dduals  !  " 

Adelaide.     He  has  lost  the  spirit  of  a  prince ! 

Weislingen.  We  inveighed  against  Sickingen  !  — 
"  He  is  my  faithful  servant,"  said  he :  "  and,  if  he  has 
not  acted  by  my  express  order,  he  has  performed  better 
what  I  wished  than  my  plenipotentiaries;  and  I  can 
ratify  what  he  has  done  as  well  after  as  before." 

Adelaide.     'Tis  enough  to  drive  one  mad. 

Weislingen.  Yet  I  have  not  given  up  all  hope. 
Goetz  is  on  parole  to  remain  quiet  in  his  castle.     'Tis 


328  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

impossible  for  him  to  keep  his  promise,  and  we  shall 
soon  have  some  new  cause  of  complaint. 

Adelaide.  That  is  the  more  likely,  as  we  may 
hope  that  the  old  emperor  will  soon  leave  the  world ; 
and  Charles,  his  gallant  successor,  will  display  a  more 
princely  mind. 

Weislingen.  Charles  !  He  is  neither  chosen  nor 
crowned. 

Adelaide.  Who  does  not  expect  and  hope  for  that 
event  ? 

Weislingen.  You  have  a  great  idea  of  his  abilities : 
one  might  almost  think  you  looked  on  him  with  partial 
eyes. 

Adelaide.  You  insult  me,  Weislingen.  For  what 
do  you  take  me  ? 

Weislingen.  I  do  not  mean  to  offend,  but  I  can- 
not be  silent  upon  the  subject.  Charles's  marked  at- 
tentions to  you  disquiet  me. 

Adelaide.     And  do  I  receive  them  as  — 

Weislingen.  You  are  a  woman,  and  no  woman 
hates  those  who  pay  their  court  to  her. 

Adelaide.     This  from  you  ! 

Weislingen.  It  cuts  me  to  the  heart  —  the  dreadful 
thought  —  Adelaide. 

Adelaide.     Can  I  not  cure  thee  of  this  folly  ? 

Weislingen.  If  thou  wouldst  —  Thou  canst  leave 
the  court. 

Adelaide.  But  upon  what  pretence  ?  Art  thou 
not  here  ?  Must  I  leave  you  and  all  my  friends,  to 
shut  myself  up  with  the  owls  in  your  solitary  castle? 
No,  Weislingen,  that  will  never  do :  be  at  rest,  thou 
knowest  I  love  thee. 

Weislingen.  That  is  my  anchor  so  long  as  the 
cable  holds.  [Exit. 

Adelaide.  Ah !  It  is  come  to  this  ?  This  was  yet 
wanting.  The  projects  of  my  bosom  are  too  great  to 
brook  the  interruption.     Charles  —  the  great,  the  gal- 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  329 

lant  Charles  —  the  future  emperor  —  shall  he  be  the 
only  man  unrewarded  by  my  favour  ?  Think  not, 
Weislingen,  to  hinder  me  —  else  shalt  thou  to  earth : 
my  way  hes  over  thee ! 

Enter  Francis  {with  a  letter). 

Francis.     Here,  gi-acious  lady. 

Adelaide.     Hadst  thou  it  from  Charles's  own  hand  ? 

Francis.     Yes. 

Adelaide.  What  ails  thee  ?  Thou  lookest  so 
mournful ! 

Francis.  It  is  your  pleasure  that  I  should  pine 
away,  and  waste  my  fairest  years  in  agonising  despair. 

Adelaide  (aside).  I  pity  him  ;  and  how  little  would 
it  cost  me  to  make  him  happy !  {Aloud.)  Be  of 
good  courage,  youth !  I  know  thy  love  and  fidelity, 
and  will  not  be  ungrateful. 

Francis  {with  stifled  breath).  If  thou  wert  capable 
of  ingratitude,  I  could  not  survive  it.  There  boils  not 
a  drop  of  blood  in  my  veins  but  what  is  thine  own  — 
I  have  not  a  single  feeling  but  to  love  and  to  serve 
thee! 

Adelaide.     Dear  Francis ! 

Francis.  You  flatter  me.  (Bursts  into  tears.) 
Does  my  attachment  deserve  only  to  be  a  stepping- 
stool  to  another,  —  to  see  all  your  thoughts  fixed  upon 
Charles  ? 

Adelaide.  You  know  not  what  you  wish,  and  still 
less  what  you  say. 

Francis  {stamping  with  vexation  and  rage).  No 
more  will  I  be  your  slave,  your  go-between ! 

Adelaide.     Francis,  you  forget  yourself. 

Francis.  To  sacrifice  my  beloved  master  and  my- 
self— 

Adelaide.     Out  of  my  sight ! 

Francis.     Gracious  lady ! 


330  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

Adelaide.  Go,  betray  to  thy  beloved  master  the 
secret  of  my  soul !  Fool  that  I  was  to  take  thee  for 
what  thou  art  not ! 

Francis.     Dear  lady  !  you  know  how  I  love  you. 

Adelaide.  And  thou,  who  wast  my  friend  —  so 
near  my  heart  —  go,  betray  me. 

Francis.  Eather  would  I  tear  my  heart  from  my 
breast !  Forgive  me,  gentle  lady  !  my  heart  is  too  full, 
my  senses  desert  me. 

Adelaide.  Thou  dear,  affectionate  boy !  {She 
takes  him  hy  both  hands,  draws  him  toward  her,  and 
kisses  him.  He  throws  himself  weeping  upon  her  neck.) 
Leave  me ! 

Francis  (his  voiee  choked  hy  tears).     Heavens  ! 

Adelaide.  Leave  me !  The  walls  are  traitors. 
Leave  me !  {Breaks  from  him.)  Be  but  steady  in 
fidehty  and  love,  and  the  fairest  reward  is  thine. 

[Exit. 

Francis.  The  fairest  reward !  let  me  but  live  till 
that  moment  —  I  could  murder  my  father,  were  he  an 
obstacle  to  my  happiness  !  [Exit. 


Scene    V.  —  Jaxthausen. 

Goetz  seated  at  a  table  with  ivriting  materials.    Eliza- 
beth beside  hiin  with  her  work. 

GoETZ.  This  idle  life  does  not  suit  me.  My  con- 
finement becomes  more  irksome  every  day:  I  would 
I  could  sleep,  or  persuade  myself  that  quiet  is 
agreeable. 

Elizabeth.  Continue  writing  the  account  of  thy 
deeds  which  thou  hast  commenced.  Give  into  the 
hands  of  thy  friends  evidence  to  put  thine  enemies  to 
shame:  make  a  noble  posterity  acquainted  with  thy 
real  character. 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  331 

GoETZ.  Alas !  writing  is  but  busy  idleness :  it 
wearies  me.  While  I  am  writing  what  I  have  done,  I 
lament  the  misspent  time  iu  which  I  might  do  more. 

Elizabeth  (takes  the  writing).  Be  not  impatient. 
Thou  hast  got  as  far  as  thy  first  imprisonment  at 
Heilbronn. 

GoETZ.     That  was  always  an  unlucky  place  to  me. 

Elizabeth  {reads).  "  There  were  even  some  of  the 
confederates  who  told  me  that  I  had  acted  foolishly  in 
appearing  before  my  bitterest  enemies,  who,  as  I  might 
suspect,  would  not  deal  justly  with  me."  And  what 
didst  thou  answer  ?     Write  on. 

GoETZ.  I  said, "  Have  I  not  often  risked  life  and  limb 
for  the  welfare  and  property  of  others,  and  shall  I  not 
do  so  for  the  honour  of  my  knightly  word  ? " 

Elizabeth.     Thus  does  fame  speak  of  thee. 

GoETZ.  They  shall  not  rob  me  of  my  honour.  They 
have  taken  all  else  from  me,  —  property  —  hberty  — 
everything. 

Elizabeth.  I  happened  once  to  stand  in  an  inn 
near  the  Lords  of  Miltenberg  and  Singlingen,  who  knew 
me  not.  Then  I  was  joyful  as  at  the  birth  of  my  first- 
born ;  for  they  extolled  thee  to  each  other,  and  said, 
"  He  is  the  mirror  of  knighthood,  noble  and  merciful  in 
prosperity,  dauntless  and  true  in  misfortune." 

Goetz.  Let  them  show  me  the  man  to  whom  I  have 
broken  my  word.  Heaven  knows,  my  ambition  has 
ever  been  to  labour  for  my  neighbour  more  than  for 
myself,  and  to  acquire  the  fame  of  a  gallant  and  irre- 
proachable knight,  rather  than  principalities  or  power  ; 
and,  God  be  praised !  I  have  gained  the  meed  of  my 
labour. 

Enter  Geokge  and  Lekse  vnth  game. 

Goetz.     Good  luck  to  my  gallant  huntsmen  ! 
George.       Such    have    we    become    from    gallant 
troopers.     Boots  can  easily  be  cut  down  into  buskins. 


332  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

Lerse.  The  chase  is  always  something  —  'tis  a  kind 
of  war. 

Geokge.  Yes ;  if  we  were  not  always  crossed  by 
these  imperial  gamekeepers.  Don't  you  recollect,  my 
lord,  how  you  prophesied  we  should  become  huntsmen 
when  the  world  was  turned  topsy-turvy  ?  We  are 
become  so  now  without  waiting  for  that. 

GoETZ.  'Tis  all  the  same :  we  are  pushed  out  of  our 
sphere. 

Geokge.  These  are  wonderful  times !  For  eight 
days  a  dreadful  comet  has  been  seen :  all  Germany 
fears  that  it  portends  the  death  of  the  emperor,  who  is 
very  ill. 

GoETZ.    Very  ill !     Then,  our  career  draws  to  a  close. 

Lerse.  And  in  the  neighbourhood  there  are  terrible 
commotions :  the  peasants  have  made  a  formidable  in- 
surrection. 

GoETZ.     Where  ? 

Lerse.  In  the  heart  of  Swabia :  they  are  plundering, 
burning,  and  slaying.  I  fear  they  will  sack  the  whole 
country. 

George.  It  is  a  horrible  warfare !  They  have 
already  risen  in  a  hundred  places,  and  daily  increase 
in  number.  A  hurricane,  too,  has  lately  torn  up  whole 
forests ;  and,  in  the  place  where  the  insurrection  began, 
two  fiery  swords  have  been  seen  in  the  sky  crossing 
each  other. 

GoETZ.  Then,  some  of  my  poor  friends  and  neigh- 
bours no  doubt  suffer  innocently. 

George.     Alas !  that  we  are  pent  up  thus ! 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  333 


ACT    V. 

Scene  I.  —  A  Village  plundered  by  the  insurgent  Peas- 
antry.  Shrieks  and  tumult.  Women,  old  Men, 
and  Children  jly  across  the  Stage. 

Old  Man.  Away  !  away  !  let  us  fly  from  the  mur- 
dering dogs. 

Woman.  Sacred  heaven  !  How  blood-red  is  the 
sky  !  how  blood-red  the  setting  sun  ! 

Another.     That  must  be  fire. 

A  Third.     My  husband  !  my  husband  ! 

Old  Man.     Away  !  away  !     To  the  wood  !    [Exeunt. 

Enter  Link  and  Insurgents. 

Link.  Whoever  opposes  you,  down  with  him !  The 
village  is  ours.  Let  none  of  the  booty  be  injured,  none 
be  left  behind.  Plunder  clean  and  quickly.  We  must 
soon  set  fire  — 

Enter  Metzler,  coming  down  the  hill. 

Metzler.     How  do  things  go  with  you,  Link  ? 

Link.  Merrily  enough,  as  you  see :  you  are  just  in 
time  for  the  fun.  —  Whence  come  you  ? 

Metzler.     From  Weinsberg.     There  was  a  jubUee. 

Link.     How  so? 

Metzler.  We  stabbed  them  all,  in  such  heaps,  it 
was  a  joy  to  see  it ! 

Link.     All  whom  ? 

Metzler,  Dietrich  von  Weiler  led  up  the  dance. 
The  fool !  We  were  all  raging  round  the  church- 
steeple.  He  looked  out,  and  wished  to  treat  with  us. 
—  Baf !  A  ball  through  his  head  !  Up  we  rushed 
like  a  tempest,  and  the  fellow  soon  made  his  exit  by 
the  window. 


334  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

Link.     Huzza ! 

Metzler  {to  the  peasants).  Ye  dogs,  must  I  find 
you  legs  ?     How  they  gape  and  loiter,  the  asses ! 

Link.  Set  fire !  Let  them  roast  in  the  flames ! 
forward !     Push  on,  ye  dolts. 

Metzler.  Then  we  brought  out  Helfenstein,  Elters- 
hofen,  thirteen  of  the  nobihty,  —  eighty  in  all.  They 
were  led  out  on  the  plain  before  Heilbronn.  What  a 
shouting  and  jubilee  among  our  lads  as  the  long  row 
of  miserable  sinners  passed  by !  they  stared  at  each 
other ;  and,  heaven  and  earth !  we  surrounded  them 
before  they  were  aware,  and  then  despatched  them  all 
with  our  pikes. 

Link.     Why  was  I  not  there  ? 

Metzler.     Never  in  all  my  hfe  did  I  see  such  fun. 

Link.     On  !  on !     Bring  all  out ! 

Peasant.     All's  clear. 

Link.     Then,  fire  the  village  at  the  four  corners. 

Metzler.  'Twill  make  a  fine  bonfire  !  Hadst  thou 
but  seen  how  the  fellows  tumbled  over  one  another, 
and  croaked  like  frogs !  It  warmed  my  heart  like  a 
cup  of  brandy.  One  Eexinger  was  there,  a  fellow  with 
a  white  plume  and  flaxen  locks,  who,  when  he  went 
out  hunting,  used  to  drive  us  before  him  like  dogs,  and 
with  dogs.  I  had  not  caught  sight  of  him  all  the 
while,  when  suddenly  his  fool's  visage  looked  me  full 
in  the  face.  Push  !  went  the  spear  between  his  ribs, 
and  there  he  lay  stretched  on  all-fours  above  his  com- 
panions. The  fellows  lay  kicking  in  a  heap  like  the 
hares  that  used  to  be  driven  together  at  their  grand 
hunting-parties. 

Link.     It  smokes  finely  already  ! 

Metzler.  Yonder  it  burns  !  Come,  let  us  with  the 
booty  to  the  main  body. 

Link.     Where  do  they  halt  ? 

Metzler.  Between  this  and  Heilbronn.  They  wish 
to  choose  a  captain  whom  every  one  will  respect,  for 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  335 

we  are  after  all  only  their  equals :  they  feel  this,  and 
turn  restive. 

Link.     Whom  do  they  propose  ? 

Metzlek.  MaximiHan  Stumf,  or  Goetz  von  Berlich- 
ingen. 

Link.  That  would  be  well.  'Twould  give  the  thing 
credit  should  Goetz  accept  it.  He  has  ever  been  held 
a  worthy,  independent  knight.  Away,  away !  We 
march  toward  Heilbronn  !     Pass  the  word. 

Metzler.  The  fire  will  light  us  a  good  part  of  the 
way.     Hast  thou  seen  the  great  comet  ? 

Link.  Yes.  It  is  a  dreadful  ghastly  sign  !  As  we 
march  by  night  we  can  see  it  well.  It  rises  about  one 
o'clock. 

Metzler.  And  is  visible  but  for  an  hour  and  a 
quarter,  like  an  arm  brandishing  a  sword,  and  bloody 
red ! 

Link.  Didst  thou  mark  the  three  stars  at  the  sword's 
hilt  and  point  ? 

Metzler.  And  the  broad  haze-coloured  stripe  illu- 
minated by  a  thousand  streamers  Uke  lances,  and  be- 
tween them  little  swords. 

Link.  I  shuddered  with  horror.  The  sky  was  pale 
red,  streaked  with  ruddy  flames,  and  among  them 
grisly  figures  with  shaggy  hairs  and  beards. 

Metzler.  Did  you  see  them  too  ?  And  how  they 
all  swam  about  as  though  in  a  sea  of  blood,  and 
struggled  in  confusion,  enough  to  turn  one's  brain ! 

Link.     Away  !  away  !  [Exeunt. 

Scene  II.  —  Open  Country.  In  the  distance  two  Villages 
and  an  Abbey  are  burning. 

Kohl,  Wild,  Maximilian  Stumf,  Insurgents. 

Stumf.  You  cannot  ask  me  to  be  your  leader ;  it 
were  bad  for  you  and  for  me  ;  I  am  a  vassal  of  the 


336  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

palsgrave,  and  how  shall  I  make  war  against  my  liege 
lord  ?  Besides,  you  would  always  suspect  I  did  not  act 
from  my  heart. 

Kohl.      We  knew  well  thou  wouldst  make  some 


excuse. 


Enter  Geokge,  Lekse,  and  Goetz. 


GoETZ.     What  would  you  with  me  ? 

Kohl.    You  must  be  our  captain. 

Goetz.  How  can  I  break  my  knightly  word  to  the 
emperor  ?  I  am  under  the  ban  :  I  cannot  quit  my 
territory. 

Wild.     That's  no  excuse. 

Goetz.  And  were  I  free,  and  you  wanted  to  deal 
with  the  lords  and  nobles  as  you  did  at  Weinsberg, 
laying  waste  the  country  round  with  fire  and  sword, 
and  should  wish  me  to  be  an  abettor  of  your  shameless, 
barbarous  doings,  rather  than  be  your  captain,  you 
should   slay  me  like  a  mad  dog ! 

Kohl.     What  has  been  done  cannot  be  undone. 

Stumf.  That  was  just  the  misfortune,  that  they 
had  no  leader  whom  they  honoured,  and  who  could 
bridle  their  fury.  I  beseech  thee,  Goetz,  accept  the 
office  !  The  princes  will  be  grateful :  all  Germany 
will  thank  thee.  It  will  be  for  the  weal  and  pros- 
perity of  all.  The  country  and  its  inhabitants  will  be 
preserved. 

Goetz.     Why  dost  not  thou  accept  it  ? 

Stumf.     I  have  given  them  reasons  for  my  refusal. 

Kohl.  We  have  no  time  to  waste  in  useless 
speeches.  Once  for  all !  Goetz,  be  our  chief,  or  look 
to  thy  castle  and  thy  head !  Take  two  hours  to  con- 
sider of  it.     Guard  him  ! 

Goetz.  To  what  purpose  ?  I  am  as  resolved  now 
as  T  shall  ever  be.  Why  have  ye  risen  up  in  arms  ? 
If  to  recover  your  rights  and  freedom,  why  do  you 
plunder  and  lay  waste  the  land  ?     Will   you  abstain 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  337 

from  such  evil  doings,  and  act  as  true  men  who  know 
what  they  want  ?  Then  will  I  be  your  chief  for  eight 
days,  and  help  you  in  your  lawful  and  orderly  de- 
mands. 

Wild.  What  has  been  done  was  done  in  the  first 
heat,  and  thy  mterference  is  not  needed  to  prevent  it 
for  the  future. 

Kohl.  Thou  must  engage  with  us  at  least  for  a 
quarter  of  a  year. 

Stumf.  Say  four  weeks:  that  will  satisfy  both 
parties. 

Kohl.     Your  hand  ! 

GoETZ.  But  you  must  promise  to  send  the  treaty 
you  have  made  with  me  in  writing  to  all  your  troops, 
and  to  punish  severely  those  who  infringe  it. 

Wild.     Well,  it  shall  be  done. 

GoETZ.     Then,  I  bind  myself  to  you  for  four  weeks. 

Stumf.  Good  fortune  to  you !  In  whatever  thou 
doest,  spare  our  noble  lord  the  palsgrave. 

Kohl  (aside).  See  that  none  speak  to  him  without 
our  knowledge. 

GoETZ.  Lerse,  go  to  my  wife.  Protect  her :  you 
shall  have  news  of  me. 

[Uxeunt  GoETZ,  Stumf,  Lerse,  and  some  Peasants, 

Enter  Metzler,  Link,  and  their  followers. 

Metzler.  Who  talks  of  a  treaty  ?  What's  the  use 
of  a  treaty  ? 

Link.     It  is  shameful  to  make  any  such  bargain  ! 

Kohl.  We  know  as  weU  what  we  want  as  you,  and 
we  may  do  or  let  alone  what  we  please. 

Wild.  This  raging  and  burning  and  murdering 
must  have  an  end  some  day  or  other  ;  and,  by  renounc- 
ing it  just  now,  we  gain  a  brave  leader. 

Metzler.  How  ?  An  end  ?  Thou  traitor !  why 
are  w^e  here  but  to  avenge  ourselves  on  our  enemies. 


338  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

and  enrich  ourselves  at  their  expense  ?     Some  prince's 
slave  has  heen  tampering  with  thee. 

Kohl.     Come,  Wild  :  he  is  hke  a  brute-beast. 

\^Exeunt  Wild  and  Kohl. 

Metzlee.  Ay,  go  your  way  :  no  band  will  stick  by 
you.  The  villains !  Link,  we'll  set  on  the  others  to 
burn  Miltenberg  yonder ;  and,  if  they  begin  a  quarrel 
about  the  treaty,  we'll  cut  off  the  heads  of  those  that 
made  it. 

Link.  We  have  still  the  greater  body  of  peasants 
on  our  side.  [Exeunt  with  Insurgents. 

Scene  III.  —  A  Hill,  and  Prospect  of  the  Country. 
In  the  fiat  scene  a  Mill.     A  body  of  Horsemen. 

Weislingen  comes  out  of  the  Mill,  followed  by 
Francis  and  a  Courier. 

Weislingen.  My  horse !  Have  you  announced  it 
to  the  other  nobles  ? 

Courier.  At  least  seven  standards  will  meet  you 
in  the  wood  behind  Miltenberg.  The  peasants  are 
marching  in  that  direction.  Couriers  are  despatched 
on  all  sides :  the  entire  confederacy  will  soon  be  as- 
sembled. Our  plan  cannot  fail,  and  they  say  there  is 
dissension  among  them. 

Weislingen.     So  much  the  better.     Francis  ! 

Francis.     Gracious  sir ! 

Weislingen.  Discharge  thine  errand  punctually. 
I  bind  it  upon  thy  soul.  Give  her  the  letter.  She 
shall  from  the  court  to  my  castle  instantly.  Thou 
must  see  her  depart,  and  bring  me  notice  of  it. 

Francis.     Your  commands  shall  be  obeyed. 

Weislingen.  Tell  her  she  shall  go.  (To  the 
Courier.)     Lead  us  by  the  nearest  and  best  road. 

Courier.  We  must  go  round :  all  the  rivers  are 
swollen  with  the  late  heavy  rains. 


GOETZ   VON   BERLICHINGEN  339 


Scene  IV.  —  Jaxthausen. 

Elizabeth  and  Lerse. 

Lerse.     Gracious  lady,  be  comforted  ! 

Elizabeth.  Alas !  Lerse,  the  tears  stood  in  his 
eyes  when  he  took  leave  of  me.  It  is  dreadful, 
dreadful ! 

Lerse.     He  will  return. 

Elizabeth.  It  is  not  that.  When  he  went  forth 
to  gain  honourable  victories,  never  did  grief  sit  heavy 
at  my  heart.  I  then  rejoiced  in  the  prospect  of  his 
return,  which  I  now  dread. 

Lerse.     So  noble  a  man. 

Elizabeth.  Call  him  not  so.  There  lies  the  new 
misery.  The  miscreants  !  they  threatened  to  murder 
his  family  and  burn  his  castle.  Should  he  return, 
gloomy,  most  gloomy,  shall  I  see  his  brow.  His  ene- 
mies will  forge  scandalous  accusations  against  him, 
which  he  will  be  unable  to  refute. 

Lerse.     He  will  and  can. 

Elizabeth.  He  has  broken  his  parole.  —  Canst  thou 
deny  that  ? 

Lerse.  No  !  he  was  constrained :  what  reason  is 
there  to  condemn  him  ? 

Elizabeth.  Malice  seeks  not  reasons,  but  pretexts. 
He  has  become  an  ally  of  rebels,  malefactors,  and 
murderers:  —  he  has  become  their  chief.  Say  No  to 
that. 

Lerse.  Cease  to  torment  yourself  and  me.  Have 
they  not  solemnly  sworn  to  abjure  all  such  doings  as 
those  at  Weinsberg  ?  Did  not  I  myself  hear  them  say, 
in  remorse,  that,  had  not  that  been  done  already,  it 
never  should  have  been  done  ?  Must  not  the  princes 
and  nobles  return  him  their  best  thanks  for  having 
undertaken  the  dangerous  office  of  leading  these  unruly 


340  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

people,  in  order  to  restrain  their  rage,  and  to  save  so 
many  lives  and  possessions  ? 

Elizabeth.  Thou  art  an  affectionate  pleader.  Should 
they  take  him  prisoner,  deal  with  him  as  with  a  rebel, 
and  bring  his  gray  hairs  .  .  .  Lerse,  I  should  go  mad. 

Lerse.  Send  sleep  to  refresh  her  body,  dear  Father 
of  mankind,  if  thou  deniest  comfort  to  her  soul. 

Elizabeth.  George  has  promised  to  bring  news,  but 
he  will  not  be  allowed  to  do  so.  They  are  worse  than 
prisoners.  Well  I  know  they  are  watched  like  ene- 
mies. —  The  gallant  boy !  he  would  not  leave  his 
master. 

Lerse.  The  very  heart  within  me  bled  when  he 
bade  me  leave  him.  —  Had  you  not  needed  my  help, 
all  the  terrors  of  grisly  death  should  not  have  sepa- 
rated us. 

Elizabeth.  I  know  not  where  Sickingen  is.  — 
Could  I  but  send  a  message  to  Maria ! 

Lerse.  Write  your  message :  I  will  take  charge 
of  it.  l_I!xit. 

Scene  V.  —  A  Village. 

Enter  Goetz  and  George. 

Goetz.  To  horse,  George  !  Quick  !  I  see  Milten- 
berg  in  flames.  Is  it  thus  they  keep  the  treaty  ?  Eide 
to  them,  tell  them  my  purpose.  The  murderous  incen- 
diaries —  I  renounce  them  —  Let  them  make  a  thiev- 
ing gipsy  their  captain,  not  me  !  —  Quick,  George  ! 
{^Exit  George!)  Would  that  I  were  a  thousand  miles 
hence,  at  the  bottom  of  the  deepest  dungeon  in  Turkey  ! 
Could  I  but  come  off  with  honour  from  them  !  I  have 
thwarted  them  every  day,  and  told  them  the  bitterest 
truths,  in  the  hope  they  might  weary  of  me  and  let  me 
go. 

Enter  an  Unknown. 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  341 

Unknown.     God  save  you,  gallant  sir  ! 

GoETZ.  I  thank  you  !  What  is  your  errand  ?  Your 
name  ? 

Unknown.  My  name  does  not  concern  my  busi- 
ness. I  come  to  tell  you  that  your  life  is  in  danger. 
The  insurgent  leaders  are  weary  of  hearing  from  you 
such  harsh  language,  and  are  resolved  to  rid  themselves 
of  you.  Speak  them  fair,  or  endeavour  to  escape  from 
them ;  and  God  be  with  you.  \_UxiL 

GoETZ.  To  quit  life  in  this  fashion,  Goetz,  to  end 
thus  ?  But  be  it  so  —  My  death  will  be  the  clearest 
proof  to  the  world  that  I  have  had  nothing  in  common 
with  the  miscreants. 

Unter  Insurgents. 

First  Insurgent.  Captain,  they  are  prisoners,  they 
are  slain  ! 

GoETZ.     Who  ? 

Second  Insurgent.  Those  who  burned  Miltenberg : 
a  troop  of  confederate  cavalry  suddenly  charged  upon 
them  from  behind  the  hill. 

Goetz.  They  have  their  reward.  Oh,  George ! 
George!  They  have  taken  him  prisoner  with  the 
caitiffs  —  My  George  !  my  George  ! 

Unter  Insurgents  in  confusion. 

Link.  Up,  sir  captain,  up  !  —  There  is  no  time  to 
lose.     The  enemy  is  at  hand  and  in  force. 

Goetz.     Who  burned  Miltenberg  ? 

Metzler.  If  you  mean  to  pick  a  quarrel,  we'll  soon 
show  you  how  we'll  end  it. 

Kohl.     Look  to  your  own  safety  and  ours.  —  Up  ! 

Goetz  {to  Metzler).  Darest  thou  threaten  me, 
thou  scoundrel?  .  .  .  Thinkest  thou  to  awe  me,  be- 
cause thy  garments  are  stained  with  the  Count  of 
Helfenstein's  blood  ? 

Metzler.     Berhchingen ! 


342  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

GoETZ.  Thou  mayest  call  me  by  my  name,  and  my 
children  will  not  be  ashamed  to  hear  it. 

Metzler.    Out  upon  thee,  coward  !  —  prince's  slave  ! 
[GoETZ  strikes  Mm  doum.     Hie  others  interjjose. 
KoiiL.     Ye  are  mad  !  —  The  enemy  are  breaking  in 
on  all  sides,  and  you  quarrel  ! 
Link.     Away  !    Away  ! 

\_Cries  and  tumult.      TJie  Insuegents  flee  across 
the  stage. 

Enter  Weislingen  and  Troopers. 

Weislingen.  Pursue  !  Pursue  !  they  flee  !  —  Stop 
neither  for  darkness  nor  rain.  —  I  hear  Goetz  is  among 
them :  look  that  he  escape  you  not.  Our  friends  say 
he  is  sorely  wounded.  {Exeunt  Troopers.)  And 
when  I  have  caught  thee  —  it  will  be  merciful  secretly 
to  execute  the  sentence  of  death  in  prison.  Thus  he 
perishes  from  the  memory  of  man  ;  and  then,  foohsh 
heart,  thou  mayst  beat  more  freely. 


Scene  VI.  —  Tlie  Front  of  a  Gipsy  Hut  in  a  wild 
Forest.  Night.  A  Fire  hefore  the  Hut,  at  which 
are  seated  the  Mother  of  the  Gipsies  and  a  Girl. 

Mother.  Throw  some  fresh  straw  upon  the  thatch, 
daughter:  there'll  be  heavy  rain  again  to-night. 

Enter  a  Gipsy  Boy. 

Boy.  a  dormouse,  mother !  and  look !  two  field- 
mice  ! 

Mother.  I'll  skin  them  and  roast  them  for  thee, 
and  thou  shalt  have  a  cap  of  their  skins.  Thou 
bleedest  ! 

Boy.     Dormouse  bit  me. 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  343 

Mother.  Fetch  some  dead  wood,  that  the  fire  may 
burn  bright  when  thy  father  comes :  he  will  be  wet 
through  and  through. 

Another  Gipsy  Woman,  with  a  child  at  her  hack. 

,    First  Woman.     Hast  thou  had  good  luck  ? 

Second  Woman.  Ill  enough.  The  whole  country 
is  in  an  uproar :  one's  hfe  is  not  safe  a  moment.  Two 
villages  are  in  a  blaze. 

First  Woman.  Is  it  fire  that  glares  so  yonder  ?  I 
have  been  watching  it  long.  One  is  so  accustomed 
now  to  fiery  signs  in  the  heavens. 

Tlie  Captain  of  the  Gipsies  enters  with  three  of 

his  gang. 

Captain.     Heard  ye  the  wild  huntsmen  ? 

First  Woman.     He  is  passing  over  us  now. 

Captain.  How  the  hounds  give  tongue !  Wow ! 
Wow ! 

Second  Man.     How  the  whips  crack  ! 

Third  Man.  And  the  huntsmen  cheer  them  — 
Hallo  — ho! 

Mother.     'Tis  the  Devil's  chase. 

Captain.  We  have  been  fishing  in  troubled  waters. 
The  peasants  rob  each  other :  there's  no  harm  in  our 
helping  them. 

Second  Woman.     What  hast  thou  got,  Wolf  ? 

Wolf.  A  hare  and  a  capon,  a  spit,  a  bundle  of 
linen,  three  spoons  and  a  bridle. 

Sticks.  I  have  a  blanket  and  a  pair  of  boots,  also 
a  flint  and  tinder-box. 

Mother.  All  wet  as  mire  :  I'll  dry  them,  give  them 
here  !  \_Trampling  without. 

Captain.     Hark  !  —  A  horse  !     Go  see  who  it  is. 

Enter  Goetz  on  horseback. 


344  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

GoETZ.  I  thank  thee,  God !  I  see  fire  —  they  are 
gipsies  —  My  wounds  bleed  sorely  —  my  foes  are  close 
behind  me  !  —  Great  God,  this  is  a  fearful  end  ! 

Captain.     Is  it  in  peace  thou  comest  ? 

GoETZ.  I  crave  help  from  you —  My  wounds 
exhaust  me  :  assist  me  to  dismount ! 

Captain.  Help  him  !  —  A  gallant  warrior  in  look 
and  speech. 

Wolf  (aside).     'Tis  Goetz  von  Berlichingen  ! 

Captain.  Welcome !  welcome  !  —  All  that  we  have 
is  yours. 

Goetz.     Thanks,  thanks  ! 

Captain.     Come  to  my  hut.  [Exeunt  to  the  hut. 


Scene   VII.  —  Inside  the  Hut. 

Captain,  Gipsies,  and  Goetz. 

Captain.  Call  our  mother :  tell  her  to  bring  blood- 
wort  and  bandages.  (Goetz  smarms  himself.)  Here 
is  my  holiday  doublet. 

Goetz.     God  reward  you  ! 

[The  Mother  hinds  his  wounds. 

Captain.     I  rejoice  that  you  are  come. 

Goetz.     Do  you  know  me  ? 

Captain.  Who  does  not  know  you,  Goetz  ?  Our 
lives  and  heart's  blood  are  yours. 

Unter  Sticks. 

Sticks.  Horsemen  are  coming  through  the  wood. 
They  are  confederates. 

Captain.  Your  pursuers  !  They  shall  not  harm 
you.  Away,  Sticks,  call  the  others :  we  know  the 
passes  better  than  they.  We  shall  shoot  them  ere 
they  are  aware  of  us. 

[Uxeunt  Captain  and  Men  -  Gipsies  with  their  guns. 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  345 

GoETZ  {alone).  Oh,  Emperor!  Emperor!  Robbers 
protect  thy  children.  {A  sliarp  firing.)  The  wild 
foresters !     Steady  and  true ! 

Enter  Women. 

Women.  Flee,  flee !  The  enemy  has  overpow- 
ered us. 

GoETZ.     Where  is  my  horse  ? 

Women.     Here. 

GoETZ  {girds  on  his  sword  and  mounts  without  his 
armour).  For  the  last  time  shall  you  feel  my  arm. 
I  am  not  so  weak  yet.  \_Exit.  —  Tumult. 

Women.     He  gallops  to  join  our  party.         [Firing. 

Enter  Wolf. 

Wolf.  Away  !  Away  !  All  is  lost !  —  The  cap- 
tain is  shot !  —  Goetz  a  prisoner. 

[The  Women  scream,  and  fiy  into  the  wood. 


Scene  VIII.  —  Adelaide's  Bedchamber. 

Enter  Adelaide  with  a  letter. 

Adelaide.  He,  or  I !  The  tyrant  —  to  threaten 
me !  We  will  anticipate  him.  Who  glides  through 
the  antechamber  ?  {A  loio  knock  at  the  door.)  Who 
is  there  ? 

Francis  {in  a  low  voice).     Open,  gracious  lady  ! 

Adelaide.  Francis !  He  well  deserves  that  I 
should  admit  him.  [Opens  the  door. 

Francis  {throivs  himself  on  her  neck).  My  dear,  my 
gracious  lady ! 

Adelaide.  What  audacity !  If  any  one  should 
hear  you  ! 


346  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

Francis.     Oh  —  all  —  all  are  asleep ! 

Adelaide.     What  wouldst  thou  ? 

Francis.  I  cannot  rest.  The  threats  of  my  master 
—  your  fate  —  my  heart. 

Adelaide.  He  was  incensed  against  me  when  you 
parted  from  him. 

Francis.  He  was  as  I  have  never  seen  him.  —  "  To 
my  castle,"  said  he,  "  she  must  —  she  shall  go." 

Adelaide.     And  shall  we  obey  ? 

Francis.     I  know  not,  dear  lady  ! 

Adelaide.  Thou  foohsh,  infatuated  boy !  Thou 
dost  not  see  where  this  will  end.  Here  he  knows  I 
am  in  safety.  He  has  long  had  designs  on  my  free- 
dom, and  therefore  wishes  to  get  me  to  his  castle  — 
there  he  will  have  power  to  use  me  as  his  hate 
shall  dictate. 

Francis.     He  shall  not ! 

Adelaide.     Wilt  thou  prevent  him  ? 

Francis.     He  shall  not ! 

Adelaide.  I  foresee  the  whole  misery  of  my  fate. 
He  will  tear  me  forcibly  from  his  castle  to  immure  me 
in  a  cloister. 

Francis.     Hell  and  damnation  ! 

Adelaide.     Wilt  thou  rescue  me  ? 

Francis.     Anything !     Everything ! 

Adelaide  {throws  herself  weeping  upon  his  neck). 
Francis  !     Oh,  save  me  ! 

Francis.  He  shall  fall.  I  will  plant  my  foot  upon 
his  neck. 

Adelaide.  No  violence.  You  shall  carry  a  sub- 
missive letter  to  him  announcing  obedience  —  Then 
give  him  this  vial  in  his  wine. 

Francis.     Give  it  me !     Thou  shalt  be  free  ! 

Adelaide.  Free !  —  And  then  no  more  shalt  thou 
need  to  come  to  my  chamber  trembling  and  in  fear. 
No  more  shall  I  need  anxiously  say,  "  Away,  Francis ! 
the  morning  dawns." 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  347 


Scene  IX.  —  Street  before  the  Prison  at  Heilbronn. 

Elizabeth  and  Lekse. 

Lerse.  Heaven  relieve  your  distress,  gracious  lady  ! 
Maria  is  come. 

Elizabeth.  God  be  praised  !  Lerse,  we  have  sunk 
into  dreadful  misery.  My  worst  forebodings  are  real- 
ised !  A  prisoner  —  thrown  as  an  assassin  and  male- 
factor into  the  deepest  dungeon. 

Lerse.     I  know  all. 

Elizabeth.  Thou  knowest  nothing.  Our  distress 
is  too  —  too  great !  His  age,  his  wounds,  a  slow  fever 
—  and,  more  than  all,  the  despondency  of  his  mind, 
to  think  that  this  should  be  his  end. 

Lerse.  Ay,  and  that  Weisliugen  should  be  com- 
missioner ! 

Elizabeth.     Weislingen ! 

Lerse.  They  have  acted  with  unheard-of  severity. 
Metzler  has  been  burnt  alive  —  hundreds  of  his  asso- 
ciates broken  upon  the  wheel,  beheaded,  quartered,  and 
impaled.  All  the  country  round  looks  like  a  slaugh- 
ter-house, where  human  flesh  is  cheap. 

Elizabeth.  Weislingen  commissioner  !  0  Heaven ! 
a  ray  of  hope !  Maria  shall  go  to  him :  he  cannot 
refuse  her.  He  had  ever  a  compassionate  heart ;  and 
when  he  sees  her  whom  he  once  loved  so  much,  whom 
he  has  made  so  miserable  —     Where  is  she  ? 

Lerse.     Still  at  the  inn. 

Elizabeth.  Take  me  to  her.  She  must  away 
instantly.     I  fear  the  worst.  \_Exeunt. 


348  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 


Scene    X.  —  An   Apartment   in    Weislingen's    Castle. 

Weislingen,  alone. 

Weislingen.  I  am  so  ill,  so  weak  —  all  my  bones 
are  hollow  —  this  wretched  fever  has  consumed  their 
very  marrow.  No  rest,  no  sleep,  by  day  or  night !  and 
when  I  slumber,  such  fearful  dreams !  Last  night 
methought  I  met  Goetz  in  the  forest.  He  drew  his 
sword,  and  defied  me  to  combat.  I  grasped  mine,  but 
my  hand  failed  me.  He  darted  on  me  a  look  of  con- 
tempt, sheathed  his  weapon,  and  passed  on.  He  is  a 
prisoner,  yet  I  tremble  to  think  of  him.  Miserable 
man !  Thine  own  voice  has  condemned  him,  yet  thou 
tremblest  like  a  malefactor  at  his  very  shadow.  And 
shall  he  die  ?  Goetz  !  Goetz !  we  mortals  ;are  not  our 
own  masters.  Fiends  have  empire  over  us,  and  shape 
our  actions  after  their  own  hellish  will,  to  goad  us  to 
perdition.  {Sits  down.)  Weak !  Weak !  Why  are 
my  nails  so  blue  ?  A  cold,  clammy,  wasting  sweat 
drenches  every  limb.  Everything  swims  before  my 
eyes.     Could  I  but  sleep !     Alas  ! 

Enter  Maeia. 

Weislingen.  Mother  of  God  !  Leave  me  in  peace 
—  leave  me  in  peace  !  This  spectre  was  yet  wanting. 
Maria  is  dead,  and  she  appears  to  the  traitor.  Leave 
me,  blessed  spirit !     I  am  wretched  enough. 

Maria.     Weislingen,  I  am  no  spirit.     I  am  Maria. 

Weislingen.     It  is  her  voice  ! 

Maeia.  I  came  to  beg  my  brother's  life  of  thee. 
He  is  guiltless,  however  culpable  he  may  appear. 

Weislingen.  Hush!  Maria —  Angel  of  heaven 
as  thou  art,  thou  bringest  with  thee  the  torments  of 
hell !     Speak  no  more  ! 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  349 

Maria.  And  must  my  brother  die  ?  Weislingen, 
it  is  horrible  that  I  should  have  to  tell  thee  he  is  guilt- 
less ;  that  I  should  be  compelled  to  come  as  a  suppli- 
ant to  restrain  thee  from  a  most  fearful  murder.  Thy 
soul  to  its  inmost  depths  is  possessed  by  evil  powers. 
Can  this  be  Adelbert  ? 

Weislingen.  Thou  seest  —  the  consuming  breath 
of  the  grave  hath  swept  over  me  —  my  strength  sinks 
in  death  —  I  die  in  misery,  and  thou  comest  to  drive 
me  to  despair.  Could  I  but  tell  thee  all,  thy  bitterest 
hate  would  melt  to  sorrow  and  compassion.  0  Maria ! 
Maria ! 

Maria.  Weislingen,  my  brother  is  pining  in  a  dun- 
geon —  The  anguish  of  his  wounds  —  his  age  —  oh, 
hadst  thou  the  heart  to  bring  his  gray  hairs  .  .  .  Weis- 
lingen, we  should  despair ! 

Weislingen.     Enough  !  [Rings  a  hand-bell. 

Enter  Francis  in  great  agitation. 

Francis.     Gracious  sir. 

Weislingen.  Those  papers,  Francis.  {He  gives 
them.  Weislingen  tears  open  a  packet,  and  shows 
Maria  a  paper.)  Here  is  thy  brother's  death-warrant 
signed ! 

Maria.     God  in  heaven  ! 

Weislingen.  And  thus  I  tear  it.  He  shall  hve ! 
But  can  I  restore  what  I  have  destroyed  ?  Weep  not 
so,  Francis  !  Dear  youth,  my  wretchedness  lies  deeply 
at  thy  heart. 

[Francis  throws  himself  at  his  feet,  and  clasps  his 
knees. 

Maria  (apart).  He  is  ill  —  very  ill.  The  sight  of 
him  rends  my  heart.  I  loved  him !  And  now  that  I 
again  approach  him,  I  feel  how  dearly  — 

Weislingen.  Francis,  arise,  and  cease  to  weep  —  I 
may  recover !     While  there  is  life,  there  is  hope. 


35°  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

Francis,     You  cannot !     You  must  die ! 

Weislingen.     Must  ? 

Francis  (beside  himself).  Poison!  poison!  —  from 
your  wife  !     I  —  I  gave  it.  [Bushes  out 

Weislingen.     Follow  him,  Maria  —  he  is  desperate. 

[Exit  Maria. 

Poison  from  my  wife  !  Alas  !  alas !  I  feel  it.  Tor- 
ture and  death ! 

Maria  {within).     Help  !  help ! 

Weislingen  (^attempts  in  vain  to  rise).  God !  I 
cannot. 

Maria  (reentering).  He  is  gone !  He  threw  him- 
self desperately  from  a  window  of  the  hall  into  the 
river. 

Weislingen.  It  is  well  with  him.  Thy  brother  is 
out  of  danger.  The  other  commissioners,  especially 
Seckeudorf,  are  his  friends.  They  will  readily  allow 
him  to  ward  himself  upon  his  knightly  word.  Fare- 
well, Maria !     Now  go. 

Maria.  I  will  stay  with  thee  —  thou  poor  forsaken 
one ! 

Weislingen.  Poor  and  forsaken  indeed!  0  God, 
thou  art  a  terrible  avenger  !     My  wife  ! 

Maria.  Remove  from  thee  that  thought.  Turn  thy 
soul  to  the  throne  of  mercy. 

Weislingen.  Go,  thou  gentle  spirit !  leave  me  to 
my  misery !  Horrible !  Even  thy  presence,  Maria, 
even  the  attendance  of  my  only  comforter,  is  agony. 

Maria  (aside).  Strengthen  me,  Heaven !  My  soul 
droops  with  his. 

Weislingen.  Alas  !  alas !  Poison  from  my  wife ! 
My  Francis  seduced  by  the  wretch  !  She  waits  —  lis- 
tens to  every  horse's  hoof  for  the  messenger  who  brings 
her  the  news  of  my  death.  And  thou,  too,  Maria, 
wherefore  art  thou  come  to  awaken  every  slumbering 
recollection  of  my  sins  ?  Leave  me,  leave  me  that  I 
mav  die ! 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  351 

Maria.  Let  me  stay  !  Thou  art  alone  :  think  I  am 
thy  nurse.  Forget  all.  May  God  forgive  thee  as  freely 
as  I  do ! 

Weislingen.  Thou  spirit  of  love !  pray  for  me ! 
pray  for  me !     My  heart  is  seared. 

Maria.  There  is  forgiveness  for  thee.  —  Thou  art 
exhausted. 

Weislingen.  I  die !  I  die !  and  yet  I  cannot  die. 
In  the  fearful  contest  between  life  and  death  lie  the 
torments  of  hell. 

Maria.  Heavenly  Father,  have  compassion  upon 
him.  Grant  him  but  one  token  of  thy  love,  that  his 
heart  may  be  opened  to  comfort,  and  his  soul  to  the 
hope  of  eternal  life,  even  in  the  agony  of  death ! 


Scene  XI.  —  A  Narrow  Vault  dimly  illuminated. 
TJie  Judges  of  the  Secret  Tribunal  discovered  seated, 
all  muffl^ed  in  Black  Cloaks. 

Eldest  Judge.  Judges  of  the  Secret  Tribunal, 
sworn  by  the  cord  and  the  steel  to  be  inflexible  in 
justice,  to  judge  in  secret,  and  to  avenge  in  secret,  like 
the  Deity !  Are  your  hands  clean  and  your  hearts 
pure  ?  Eaise  them  to  heaven,  and  cry.  Woe  upon  evil- 
doers ! 

All.    Woe !  woe  ! 

Eldest  Judge.     Crier,  begin  the  diet  of  judgment. 

Crier.  I  cry,  I  cry  for  accusation  against  evil-doers  ! 
He  whose  heart  is  pure,  whose  hands  are  clean  to  swear 
by  the  cord  and  the  steel,  let  him  lift  up  his  voice  and 
call  upon  the  steel  and  the  cord  for  vengeance !  ven- 
geance !  vengeance ! 

Accuser  (comes  forward').  My  heart  is  pure  from 
misdeed,  and  my  hands  are  clean  from  innocent  blood : 
God  pardon  my  sins  of  thought,  and  prevent  their  exe- 


352  GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 

cution.     I  raise  my  hand  on  high,  and  cry  for  ven- 
geance !  vengeance !  vengeance ! 

Eldest  Judge.     Vengeance  upon  whom  ? 

Accuser.  I  call  upon  the  cord  and  the  steel  for 
vengeance  against  Adelaide  of  Weishngen.  She  has 
committed  adultery  and  murder.  She  has  poisoned 
her  husband  by  the  hands  of  his  servant  —  the  servant 
hath  slain  himself  —  the  husband  is  dead. 

Eldest  Judge.  Dost  thou  swear  by  the  God  of 
truth,  that  thy  accusation  is  true  ? 

Accuser.     I  swear ! 

Eldest  Judge.  Dost  thou  invoke  upon  thine  own 
head  the  punishment  of  murder  and  adultery,  should 
thy  accusation  be  found  false  ? 

Accuser.     On  my  head  be  it. 

Eldest  Judge.     Your  voices ! 

\_TIiey  converse  a  few  minutes  in  whispers. 

Accuser.  Judges  of  the  Secret  Tribunal,  what  is 
your  sentence  upon  Adelaide  of  Weislingen,  accused  of 
murder  and  adultery  ? 

Eldest  Judge.  She  shall  die  !  —  she  shall  die  a 
bitter  and  twofold  death !  By  the  double  doom  of  the 
steel  and  the  cord  shall  she  expiate  the  double  crime. 
Eaise  your  hands  to  heaven  and  cry,  Woe,  woe  upon 
her !     Be  she  dehvered  into  the  hands  of  the  avenger. 

All.     Woe !  woe ! 

Eldest  Judge.     Woe  !     Avenger,  come  forth. 

[A  man  advances. 

Here,  take  thou  the  cord  and  the  steel !  Within 
eight  days  shalt  thou  blot  her  out  from  before  the  face 
of  heaven :  wheresoever  thou  findest  her,  down  with 
her  into  the  dust.  Judges,  ye  that  judge  in  secret,  and 
avenge  in  secret  like  the  Deity,  keep  your  hearts  from 
wickedness,  and  your  hands  from  innocent  blood  ! 

[Scene  closes. 


GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  353 


Scene  XII.  —  Tlie  Court  of  an  Inn. 

Lekse  and  Maria. 

Maria.  The  horses  have  rested  long  enough :  we 
will  away,  Lerse. 

Lerse.  Stay  till  to-morrow:  this  is  a  dreadful 
night. 

Maria.  Lerse,  I  cannot  rest  till  I  have  seen  my 
brother.  Let  us  away :  the  weather  is  clearing  up  — 
we  may  expect  a  fair  morning. 

Lerse.     Be  it  as  you  will. 


Scene  XIII.  —  The  Prison  at  Heilhronn. 

GoETZ  and  Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth.  I  entreat  thee,  dear  husband,  speak  to 
me.  Thy  silence  alarms  me :  thy  spirit  consumes 
thee,  pent  up  within  thy  breast.  Come,  let  me  see 
thy  wounds :  they  mend  daily.  In  this  desponding 
melancholy  I  know  thee  no  longer ! 

GoETZ.  Seekest  thou  Goetz  ?  He  is  long  since 
gone !  Piece  by  piece  have  they  robbed  me  of  all  I 
held  dear,  —  my  hand,  my  property,  my  freedom, 
my  good  name !  My  life !  Of  what  value  is  it  to 
me  ?  What  news  of  George  ?  Is  Lerse  gone  to  seek 
him  ? 

Elizabeth.  He  is,  my  love !  Be  of  good  cheer : 
things  may  yet  take  a  favourable  turn. 

GoETZ.  He  whom  God  hath  stricken  lifts  himself 
up  no  more  !  I  best  know  the  load  I  have  to  bear.  — 
To  misfortune  I  am  inured.  —  But  now  it  is  not 
Weislingen  alone,  not  the  peasants  alone,  not  the 
death  of  the  emperor,  nor  my  wounds,  —  it  is  the 
whole  united.  .  .  .  My  hour  is  come  !     I  had  hoped 


354  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

it  should  have  been  like  my  life.  But  his  will  be 
done! 

Elizabeth.     Wilt  not  thou  eat  something  ? 

GoETZ.  Nothing,  my  love.  See  how  the  sun  shines 
yonder ! 

Elizabeth.     It  is  a  fine  spring  day ! 

GoETZ.  My  love,  wilt  thou  ask  the  keeper's  permis- 
sion for  me  to  walk  in  his  little  garden  for  half  an 
hour,  that  I  may  look  upon  the  clear  face  of  heaven, 
the  pure  air,  and  the  blessed  sun  ? 

Elizabeth.     I  will  —  and  he  will  readily  gi-ant  it. 


Scene  the  Last.  —  TJic  Prison  Garden. 

Leese  and  Maria. 

Maria.     Go  in,  and  see  how  it  stands  with  them. 

l^Exit  Lerse. 

Enter  Elizabeth  and  Keeper. 

Elizabeth  {to  the  Keeper).  God  reward  your  kind- 
ness and  attention  to  my  husband !  {Exit  Keeper.) 
Maria,  how  hast  thou  sped  ? 

Maria.  My  brother  is  safe !  But  my  heart  is  torn 
asunder.  Weislingen  is  dead !  Poisoned  by  his  wife. 
My  husband  is  in  danger  —  the  princes  are  becoming 
too  powerful  for  him :  they  say  he  is  surrounded  and 
besieged. 

Elizabeth.  Believe  not  the  rumour,  and  let  not 
Goetz  hear  it. 

Maria.     How  is  it  with  him  ? 

Elizabeth.  I  feared  he  would  not  survive  till  thy 
return :  the  hand  of  the  Lord  is  heavy  on  him.  And 
George  is  dead ! 

Maria.     George  !     The  gallant  boy  ! 


GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN  355 

Elizabeth.  When  the  miscreants  were  burning 
Miltenberg,  his  master  sent  him  to  check  their  villainy. 
A  body  of  cavalry  charged  upon  them :  had  they  all 
behaved  as  George,  they  must  all  have  had  as  clear  a 
conscience.  Many  were  killed,  and  George  among 
them  :  he  died  the  death  of  a  warrior. 

Makia.     Does  Goetz  know  it  ? 

Elizabeth.  We  conceal  it  from  him.  He  ques- 
tions me  ten  times  a  day  concerning  him,  and  sends 
me  as  often  to  see  what  is  become  of  him.  I  fear  to 
give  his  heart  this  last  wound. 

Maria.     O  God !    What  are  the  hopes  of  this  world  ? 

Enter  Goetz,  Lerse,  and  Keeper. 

Goetz.  Almighty  God  !  How  lovely  it  is  beneath 
thy  heaven !  How  free !  The  trees  put  forth  their 
buds,  and  all  the  world  awakes  to  hope.  .  .  .  Farewell, 
my  children !  My  roots  are  cut  away,  my  strength 
totters  to  the  grave. 

Elizabeth.  Shall  I  not  send  Lerse  to  the  convent 
for  thy  son,  that  thou  mayst  once  more  see  and  bless 
him  ? 

Goetz.  Let  him  be :  he  needs  not  my  blessing,  he 
is  holier  than  I.  —  Upon  our  wedding-day,  Elizabeth, 
could  I  have  thought  I  should  die  thus !  —  My  old 
father  blessed  us,  and  prayed  for  a  succession  of  noble 
and  gallant  sons.  —  God,  thou  hast  not  heard  him.  I 
am  the  last.  .  .  .  Lerse,  thy  countenance  cheers  me  in 
the  hour  of  death,  more  than  in  our  most  daring  fights : 
then,  my  spirit  encouraged  all  of  you ;  now,  thine  sup- 
ports me  ...  Oh,  that  I  could  but  once  more  see 
George,  and  sun  myself  in  his  look !  You  turn  away, 
and  weep.  He  is  dead  ?  George  is  dead  ?  Then  die, 
Goetz !  Thou  hast  outhved  tliyself,  outlived  the 
noblest  of  thy  servants.  .  .  .  How  died  he  ?  Alas ! 
they  took  him  among  the  incendiaries,  and  he  has  been 
executed  ? 


356  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

Elizabeth.  No  !  lie  was  slain  at  Miltenberg,  while 
fighting  for  his  freedom  like  a  lion. 

GoETZ.  God  be  praised!  He  was  the  kindest 
youth  under  the  sun,  and  one  of  the  bravest.  .  .  . 
Now  release  my  soul.  My  poor  wife !  I  leave  thee 
in  a  wicked  world,  Lerse,  forsake  her  not  I  Lock 
your  hearts  more  carefully  than  your  doors.  The  age 
of  fraud  is  at  hand,  treachery  will  reign  unchecked. 
The  worthless  will  gain  the  ascendency  by  cunning, 
and  the  noble  will  fall  into  their  net.  Maria,  may 
God  restore  thy  husband  to  thee !  May  he  not  fall 
the  deeper  for  having  risen  so  high !  Selbitz  is  dead, 
and  the  good  emperor,  and  my  George.  .  .  .  Give  me 
a  draught  of  water !  .  .  .  Heavenly  air !  Freedom ! 
freedom !  \^He  dies. 

Elizabeth.  Freedom  is  above,  —  above,  with  thee  ! 
The  world  is  a  prison-house. 

Maria.  Noble  man !  Woe  to  this  age  that  re- 
jected thee ! 

Lekse.  And  woe  to  the  future,  that  shall  misjudge 
thee! 


The   Fellow  Culprits 

A  Comedy  in  Verse  and  in  Three  Acts 
Translated  by  Edgar  A.    Bowring,  C.   B. 


This  clever  comedy,  like  the  preceding  piece,  was  written  dur- 
ing Goethe's  residence  at  Leipsic  ;  but  it  was  touched  up  and 
improved  at  intervals,  during  subsequent  years,  until  it  was 
printed  in  his  collected  works.  That  its  author  considered  it  of 
some  importance,  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  it  was  one  of  the  plays 
acted  by  the  amateur  company  at  the  court  of  Weimar. 


357 


Dramatis  Persons 

The  Host.  Alcestes. 

Sophia,  his  daughter.  A  Waiter. 

SOLLER,  her  husband. 

The  Scene  is  in  the  Inn. 


3S8 


The    Fellow   Culprits 


ACT   I. 

Scene  I.      The  Inn  Parlour. 

SOLLER,  in  a  domino  at  a  tabic,  with  a  hottle  of  wine  he- 
fore  him.  Sophia,  opposite  him,  sewing  a  white 
feather  on  to  a  hat.  The  Host  eiiters.  At  the 
haek  of  the  stage  is  a  table  with  pen,  ink,  and 
paper.     A  large  easy-chair  is  near  it. 

HOST. 

Another  ball !     My  son,  I'm  sick  of  all  this  riot ; 
I  thought  that  by  this  time  you'd  like  a  httle  quiet. 
I  certainly  ne'er  gave  my  daughter's  hand  to  you. 
To  see  my  hard-won  cash  so  recklessly  run  through. 
I'm  getting  old,  and  sought  my  forces  to  recruit ; 
Assistance  wanted  I,  and  so  allow'd  your  suit : 
A  nice  assistance  yours,  to  waste  each  little  earning . 

(SoLLER  hums  a  tune  to  himself.) 
Yes,  sing  away  !  You'll  soon  another  song  be  learning. 
A  good-for-nothing  chap,  whose  folly  few  men's  matches, 
Plays,  drinks,  tobacco   smokes,  and  plots  of  all  kinds 

hatches. 
You  revel  all  the  niglit,  are  half  the  day  in  bed : 
No  prince  throughout  the  land  an  easier  life  e'er  led. 

359 


360  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

There    the    adventurer    sits,    with    spreading    sleeves. 

Ha!  ha! 
The  king  of  coxcombs  he  ! 


*o 


SOLLEK  (drinks). 

I  drink  your  health,  papa  ! 

HOST. 

You  drink  my  health,  indeed !     Enough  to  give  me 
fever ! 

SOPHIA. 

My  father,  pray  be  kind  ! 

SOLLEE    (drinks). 

Soph,  happy  be  for  ever  I 

SOPHIA. 

Be  happy !     Ah,  could  I  but  see  you  two  agree  ! 

HOST. 

Unless  he  changes  much,  that  certainly  can't  be. 
I've  long  indeed  been  sick  of  these  disputes  eternal ; 
But  while  he  thus  behaves,  the  nuisance  is  infernal. 
He  is  a  wicked  man,  cold,  thankless  to  the  last ; 
He  sees  not  what  he  is,  remembers  not  the  past : 
The  poverty  from  which  I  saved  him,  he  forgets. 
And  my  munificence  in  paying  all  his  debts. 
Distress,  repentance,   time,  no    change   in    him    have 

wrought : 
The  man  who's  once  a  scamp  is  always  good  for  nought. 

SOPHIA. 

He'll  surely  change  some  day. 


THE   FELLOW  CULPRITS  361 

HOST. 

He  little  hurry  shows. 

SOPHIA. 

'Tis  but  the  way  of  youth. 

SOLLER    {drinTcs) . 

To  all  we  love,  here  goes  ! 

HOST. 

In  at  one  ear,  forsooth,  and  at  the  other  out. 
He  doesn't  hear  me.     T  a  cipher  am,  no  doubt. 
I  now  for  twenty  years  an  honour'd  life  have  led : 
What  I  have  saved,  you  hope  to  make  your  own  instead, 
And  bit  by  bit  consume  ?     If  this  is  what  you're  at, 
You're  much  mistaken,  friend  !     'Tis  not  so  bad  as  that. 
Long  has  endured,  and  long  wiU  still  last,  my  vocation : 
The  host  of  the  Black  Bear  is  known  throughout  crea- 
tion. 
No  foolish  Bear  is  he,  his  skin  he  looks  to  well : 
My  house  is  painted  now,  I  call  it  a  hotel. 
Soon  cavaliers  will  come,  and  gold  wUl  fall  in  showers  : 
We  none  must  idle  be,  or  waste  in  drink  our  hours. 
To  bed  at  twelve  o'clock,  up  as  soon  as  it  is  day, 
That's  it ! 

SOLLER. 

All  this,  just  now,  is  pretty  far  away. 
May  things  go  on  as  now,  and  never  get  less  steady ! 
Where  are  our  many  guests?     The  rooms  above  are 
ready. 

HOST. 

Few  travel  at  this  time  :  the  house  will  fill  up  soon. 
Has  Squire  Alcestes  not  two  rooms  and  the  saloon  ? 


362  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 


SOLLER. 


That's  nothing,  yes  :  a  right  good  customer  is  he ; 
Yet  sixty  minutes  good  in  ev'iy  hour  there  be, 
And  Squire  Alcestes  knows  why  he  is  here. 


HOST. 

Knows  why  ? 

SOLLER. 


But,  apropos,  papa  !     To-day  informed  was  I : 

A  corps  of  brave  young  folks  in  Germany's  preparing 

To  help  America,  both  gold  and  succour  bearing. 

If  they  get  men  enough,  and  courage  for  the  mission, 

Next  spring,  'tis  said,  they'll  start  upon  their  expedition. 


HOST. 


Yes,  oft  I've  heard  them  boast,  as  they  a  bottle  share. 
What  wonders  they  would  do  for  my  compatriots  there  ; 
Then  freedom  was  the  cry,  vast  valour  they  affected. 
But  when  the  morning  came  their  vows  none  recollected. 


SOLLER. 

Ah,  there  are  chaps   enough,  who're  always  gushing 

over  : 
There's  one  not  far  from  you  who  is  an  ardent  lover  ; 
Would  he  romantic  be,  or  aim  at  the  subhme, 
With  head  well  placed  in  front,  he'll  scour  the  world  in 

time. 

HOST. 

If  from  our  customers  that  one  would  take  a  hint, 

'T would  be   so  nice,  and  he  could  write  us,  without 

stint, 
Such  letters  !     What  a  joke  ! 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  363 

SOLLP^R. 

'Tis  deuced  far  from  here. 

HOST. 

"What  matters  that  ?  In  time  the  letters  would  appear. 
I'll  go  up-stairs  at  once,  and  with  the  map's  assistance, 
That's  in  the  little  room,  I'll  soon  find  out  the  distance. 


Scene   II.  —  Sophia,  Soller. 

SOLLER. 

One's  pretty   well   off  here,   when  one  can  read    the 
papers. 

SOPHIA. 

Yes,  let  him  have  his  way. 

SOLLER. 

I'm  calm,  and  have  no  vapours : 
'Tis  well  for  him,  indeed  !     Was  ever  such  a  bully ! 

SOPHIA. 

I  pray  you  — 

SOLLER. 

No  !     I  needs  must  speak  my  mind  out  fully ! 
A  year  ago  was  I,  as  I  can  ne'er  forget, 
A  trav'ller  here  by  chance,  head  over  ears  in  debt  — 

SOPHIA. 

My  dear,  be  not  so  cross ! 


364  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

SOLLER. 

Those  thoughts  will  still  molest  me. 
And  yet  Sophia  found  she  didn't  quite  detest  me. 

SOPHIA. 

You  leave  me  ne'er  in  peace,  reproaching  night  and  day. 

SOLLER. 

I  don't  reproach  you,  dear ;  'tis  but  my  little  way. 
A  pretty  woman  ne'er  can  be  by  man  held  hateful. 
Whatever  may  betide  I     You  see  I'm  not  ungrateful. 
Sophia  pretty  is,  and  I  am  not  of  stone : 
'Tis  my  delight  that  you  now  me  as  husband  own. 
I  love  you  — 

SOPHIA. 

Yet  you  ne'er  allow  a  moment's  bhss. 

SOLLER. 

There's  nothing  in  it,  love !     But  I  can  tell  you  this : 
Alcestes  loved  you  well,  for  you  with  love  did  burn ; 
You  long  have  known  him  too,  and  loved  him  in  return. 

SOPHIA. 

Ah! 

SOLLER. 

No :  don't  be  disturb'd.     I  see  no  evil  there : 
If  we  should  plant  a  tree,  it  shoots  up  in  the  air ; 
And  when  it  brings  forth  fruit,  who  happens  to  be  by 
Will  eat  it,  and  next  year  there's  more.     Sophia,  I 
Know  you  too  well  to  feel  the  least  annoyance  after. 
I  find  it  laughable. 


THE   FELLOW  CULPRITS  365 

SOPHIA. 

I  see  no  cause  for  laughter. 
**  Alcestes  loved  me  well,  for  me  with  love  did  burn ; 
I  long  have  known  him  too,  and  loved  him  in  return." 
What's  after  that  ? 

SOLLER. 

Why,  nought !     I  never  said,  in  truth, 
That  more  remains  behind.     For  in  her  early  youth. 
When  first  a  maiden  blooms,  she  loves  in  make-believe  : 
A  something  stirs  her  heart,  but  what,  she  can't  con- 
ceive. 
At  forfeits  she  will  kiss  :  she  presently  grows  bigger  ; 
The  kiss  still  nicer  is,  impress'd  with  greater  vigour. 
She  knows  not  why  she  now  her  mother's  blame  incurs  : 
'Tis  virtue  when  she  loves,  she's  guileless  when  she  errs. 
And  if  experience  comes  her  other  gifts  to  swell. 
And  makes  a  prudent  wife,  her  husband  likes  it  well. 


SOPHIA. 

You  understand  me  not. 

SOLLER. 

I  only  meant  to  quiz ; 
What  drinking  is  to  men,  a  kiss  to  maidens  is : 
One  glass,  and  then  one  more,  till  on  the  ground  we 

sink ; 
If  we  would  sober  keep,  the  plan  is  —  not  to  drink. 
Enough  that  you  are  mine  !  —  Is't  not  three  years  and 

more 
Since  Squire  Alcestes  here  was  guest  and  friend  before  ? 
How  long  was  he  away  ? 

SOPHIA. 

Three  years,  I  think. 


366  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

SOLLEK. 


He's  been  a  fortnight  here  this  time^ 


And  now 


SOPHIA. 

My  love,  I  vow 


I  know  not  what  you  mean. 


SOLLEK. 


'Tis  only  conversation : 
'Tween  man  and  wife  there  is  so  little  explanation. 
But  wherefore  is  he  here  ? 


SOPHIA. 

For  pleasure,  I  suppose. 

SOLLER. 

Perchance  his  heart  for  you  with  love  still  overflows. 
If  he  still  loves,  would  you  still  treat  him  as  before  ? 

SOPHIA. 

Love's  capable  of  much,  but  duty  is  of  more. 
You  think  — 

SOLLEE. 

I  nothing  think  ;  and  understand  the  saying : 
A  man's  worth  more  than  fops  who  live  by  fiddle-play- 
ing. 
The  sweetest  tunes  we  hear  in  any  shepherd's  song 
Are  only  tunes ;  and  tunes  the  palate  cloy  ere  long. 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  367 

SOPHIA. 

'Tis  well  to  talk  of  tunes.     Does  yours  sound  much 

more  gaily  ? 
The  state  of  discontent  in  which  you  live  grows  daily. 
No  moment  in  the  day  is  from  your  teasing  free : 
If  folks  would  be  beloved,  they  lovable  must  be. 
And  were  you  quite  the  man,  happy  to  make  a  maiden  ? 
Why  should  I  always  be  with  your  reproaches  laden 
For  what  is  nothing  ?     Yes,  the  house  is  near  a  crash  : 
You  will  not  do  a  stroke,  and  only  spend  the  cash. 
You  live  from  hand  to  mouth ;  your  debts  are  always 

many ; 
And  when  your  wife  wants  aught,  she  cannot  get  a 

penny, 
And  you  won't  take  the  pains  to  earn  it  for  her.    Yes : 
Be  a  good  man,  would  you  a  worthy  wife  possess. 
Help  her  to  pass  her  time,  and  what  she  needs,  obtain ; 
And  as  concerns  the  rest,  you  may  in  peace  remain. 


SOLLER. 

Speak  to  your  father,  then ! 

SOPHIA. 

That's  what  I've  done  quite  lately. 
There's  many  a  thing  we  want,  and  trade  has  suffer'd 

greatly. 
I  asked  him  yesterday  to  hand  me  something  over : 
"  What,"  cried  he,  "  you  no  cash,  and  Seller  there  in 

clover ! " 
He  gave  me  nothing,  swore,  with  much  abuse  behind  it. 
Now  tell  me,  please,  where  you  expect  that  I  shall 

find  it  ? 
You're  not  a  man  who  e'er  would   for  his  wife  feel 

sorrow. 


368  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

SOLLEK. 

Oh,  wait,   dear  child !   perchance  I  shall  receive  to- 
morrow 
From  a  good  friend  — 

SOPHIA. 

Oh,  yes  !  from  one  who  is  a  ninny. 
I  often  hear  of  friends  prepared  to  lend  their  guinea ; 
But  when  we  want  gold,  I  never  see  that  friend. 
No,  Soller,  you  must  know  that  game  is  at  an  end ! 

SOLLEK, 

You  have  what  needful  is  — 

SOPHIA. 

I  know  what  you  are  at ; 
But  those  who  ne'er  were  poor  need  something  more 

than  that. 
The  gifts  of  Fortune  oft  to  spoil  us  are  inclined : 
We  have  what  needful  is,  yet  fancy  her  unkind. 
The  pleasure   maidens   love,   and   women  too,  —  that 

joy 

I  neither  hunger  for,  nor  do  I  find  it  cloy. 

Fine  dresses,  balls !     Enough,  I  am  a  woman  true. 

SOLLER. 

Then  go  with  me  to-day.     That's  what  I  say  to  you. 

SOPHIA. 

That  like  the  carnival  our  mode  of  life  may  be, 
A  revel  for  a  time,  that's  ended  suddenly. 
I'd  sooner  sit  alone  whole  years  together  here. 
If  you  will  nothing  save,  your  wife  must  save,  —  that's 
clear. 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  369 

Euough  already  is  my  father's  indignation : 
I  calm  his  wrath,  and  am  his  only  consolation. 
No !  with  my  money,  sir,  you  shall  not  make  so  free : 
A  little  save  yourself,  and  something  spend  on  me ! 

SOLLER. 

My  cMld,  for  just  this  once  allow  me  to  be  merry : 
When  comes  the  time  for  mass,  we'll  then  be  serious, 
very. 

A  Waiter  enters. 

Squire  Soller ! 

SOLLER. 

Well,  what  now  ? 

WAITER. 

Here's  Herr  von  Tirinette  ! 


The  gambler  ? 


SOPHIA. 
SOLLER. 

Send  him  off !     Could  I  his  name  forget ! 


W^AITER. 

See  you  he  must,  he  says. 

SOPHIA. 

What  can  he  want  with  you  ? 

SOLLER. 

He's  leaving  here  —  (To  the  Waiter.)  —  I'll  come  ! 

(To  Sophia.)     He  wants  to  say  adieu. 

[Exit. 


370  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 


Scene  IIL 


SOPHIA  (alone). 

He  comes  to  dun  him  !     Yes,  his  money's  lost  at  play : 
He's  ruining  us  all,  and  I  must  bear  it !     Say, 
Is  this  where  all  thy  joys,  thy  dreams  of  pleasure,  are  ? 
The  wife  of  such  a  man  !     Hast  thou  gone  hack  so  far  ? 
Where  is  the  vanished  time,  in  which  the  youngsters 

sweet 
In  troops  were  wont  to  pay  their  homage  at  thy  feet  ? 
When  each  one  sought  to  read  his  fate  within  thine 

eyes? 
In  affluence  I  stood,  a  goddess  from  the  skies. 
The   servants  of   my   whims  all  watchful   round   me 

pressed : 
It  was  enough  to  fill  with  vanity  my  breast. 
And,  ah  !  a  maiden  is  in  evil  case,  in  truth. 
If  she  is  pretty,  she  is  ogled  by  each  youth; 
All  day  her  head's  confused  by  praises  loud  and  strong : 
What  maiden  can  withstand  such  fiery  trial  long  ? 
Ye  could  so  nobly  act,  one  thinks  your  word  enough, 
Ye  men  !     But  all  at  once  the  Devil  takes  you  off: 
When   ye    can   taste   by    stealth,    all    join   the   feast 

instanter ; 
But  if  a  girl's  in  love,  ye  vanish  in  a  canter. 
Thus  gentlemen  themselves  in  these  hard  times  amuse, 
Some  twenty  disappear,  and  half  a  one  then  woos. 
I  found  myself  at  last  not  utterly  passed  o'er ; 
But  chances  fewer  grow,  when  one  is  twenty-four. 
Then  Soller  came,  and  soon  accepted  was  by  me : 
He's  an  unworthy  wretch,  but  still  a  man  is  he. 
Here  sit  I  now,  and  might  as  well  be  in  my  gi-ave. 
Admirers  by  the  score  I  still,  indeed,  might  have. 
But  what  would  be  the  use  ?     If  haply  they  are  silly, 
They  would  but  breed  ennui,  and  bore  me,  willy-nilly ; 


THE   FELLOW  CULPRITS  371 

And  dang'roiis  'tis  to  love,  suppose  your  friend  is  clever: 

He'll  to  your  detriment  his  cleverness  turn  ever. 

When  love  was  absent,  I  for  no  attentions  cared,  — 

And  now,  —  Oh,  my  poor  heart !  wert  thou  for  this 
prepared  ? 

Alcestes  has  returned.     Ah,  what  new  torment  this ! 

To  see  him  formerly  —  ay,  those  were  days  of  bliss. 

How  loved  I  him  !  —  And  yet  —  I  know  not  what  I 
will. 

I  shun  him  timidly,  he  is  reserved  and  still ; 

I  am  afraid  of  him ;  my  fear  is  fully  grounded. 

Ah,  knew  he  that  my  heart  still  throbs  with  love  un- 
bounded ! 

He  comes.  I  tremble  now.  My  breast  feels  anguish 
new : 

I  know  not  what  I  will,  still  less  what  I  should  do. 


Scene  IV.  —  Sophia,  Alcestes. 

ALCESTES  {dressed,  hut  without  hat  and  sword). 
Your  pardon,  ma'am,  I  pray,  if  I  appear  intrusive. 

SOPHIA. 

You're  joking,  sir  :  you  know  this  room  is  not  exclusive. 

ALCESTES. 

I  feel  that  you  no  more  to  others  me  prefer. 

SOPHIA. 

I  do  not  understand  how  that  can  hurt  you,  sir. 

ALCESTES. 

You  do  not,  cruel  one  ?     Can  I  survive  your  ire  ? 


372  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

SOPHIA. 
Excuse  me,  if  you  please :  I  fear  I  must  retire. 

ALCESTES. 

Oh,  where,  Sophia,  where  ?  —  You  turn  your  face  away, 
Withdraw  your  hand?      Have    you  no    mem'ry  left 

to-day  ? 
Behold.     Alcestes  'tis  !     A  hearing  he  entreats. 

SOPHIA. 

Alas !  how  my  poor  heart  with  wild  excitement  beats ! 

ALCESTES. 

If  you're  Sophia,  stay  ! 


I  must,  I  must  away 


SOPHIA. 

In  mercy,  spare  me,  spare  me ! 

ALCESTES. 


Sophia,  can't  you  bear  me  ? 

0  cruel  one  !     Methought,  She  now  is  quite  alone : 
This  is  the  very  time  to  have  some  kindness  shown. 

1  hoped  that  she  could  speak  one  friendly  word  to  me, 
But  go  now,  go  !     'Twas  in  this  very  room  that  she 
The  ardour  of  her  love  to  me  discovered  first ; 

'Twas  here  that  into  flames  our  mutual  passion  burst. 
Upon  this  very  spot,  —  remember  you  no  more  ?  — 
Eternal  faith  you  pledged  !  — 

SOPHIA. 

Oh,  spare  me,  I  implore ! 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  373 

ALCESTES. 

I  never  can  forget,  —  the  evening  was  enchanting : 
Your  eyes  spoke  out,  and  I  in  ardour  was  not  wanting. 
Your  lips  against  my  Hps  you  trembhngly  did  press,  — 
My  heart  still  deeply  feels  that  utter  happiness. 
Your  only  joy  was  then  to  see  or  think  of  me ; 
And  now,  for  me  not  e'en  one  hour  will  you  keep  free. 
You  see  me  seek  for  you ;  you  see  how  I  am  sad : 
Go,  false  heart,  go !  you  ne'er  for  me  affection  had. 

SOPHIA. 

You  torture  me,  when  now  my  heart  enough  oppressed 

is? 
You  dare  to  say  that  I  have  never  loved  Alcestes  ? 
You  were  my  one  sole  wish,  my  greatest  joy  were  you  ; 
For  you  my  blood  was  stirred,  for  you  my  heart  beat 

true; 
And  this  good  heart  which  I  did  then  to  you  surrender, 
Must  still  remember  you,  can  never  be  untender. 
I'm  often  troubled  still  with  all  this  recollection  : 
As  fresh  as  it  was  then,  remaineth  my  affection. 

ALCESTES. 

You  angel !  Dearest  heart !  {He  attempts  to  embrace  her.) 

SOPHIA. 

There's  some  one  coming  now. 

ALCESTES. 

What,  not  one  single  word  ?     I  ne'er  can  this  allow. 
Thus  the  whole  day  is  spent.     How  wretched  is  my 

lot! 
I've  been  a  fortnight  here,  to  you  have  spoken  not. 
I  know  you  love  me  still,  but  this  I  painful  find : 
We  never  are  alone,  we  ne'er  can  speak  our  mind. 


374  THE   FELLOW  CULPRITS 

Not  for  one  moment  e'er  this  room  in  peace  abides : 
Sometimes  your  father  'tis,  your  husband  then  besides. 
I  shall  not  stay  here  long  :  I  can  endure  it  never. 
All  things  are  possible  to  those  who  will,  however. 
Once  you  were  always  prompt,  expedients  to  devise ; 
And  jealousy  was  blind,  though  with  a  hundred  eyes. 
And  if  you  only  — 

.     SOPHIA. 

What  ? 


ALCESTES. 

Would  bear  in  mind  that  ne'er 
Alcestes  must  by  you  be  driven  to  despair. 
Beloved  one,  do  not  fail  to  seek  a  fitting  spot 
For  private  converse,  since  this  place  atfords  it  not. 
But  hark  !  this  very  night  goes  out  your  worthy  spouse. 
'Tis  thought  I,  too,  shall  join  a  carnival-carouse. 
The  back  door  to  my  stairs  is  quite  adjacent,  so 
No  person  in  the  house  of  my  return  will  know. 
The  keys  are  in  my  hands,  and  if  you'll  me  receive  — 


SOPHIA. 

Alcestes,  I'm  surprised  — 

ALCESTES. 

And  am  I  to  believe 
That  you're  no  woman  false  ?  that  still  your  heart  is 

mine  ? 
The  only  means  that  yet  are  left  us,  you  dechne  ? 
Know  you  Alcestes  not  ?     And  can  you  still  delay 
During  the  night  one  hour  to  while  with  him  away  ? 
Enough  !     Sophia,  I  to-night  may  visit  you  ? 
Or,  if  it  safer  seems,  you'll  come  to  me  ?     Adieu ! 


THE   FELLOW  CULPRITS  375 

SOPHIA. 
This  is  too  much  ! 

ALCESTES. 

Too  much  !     A  pretty  way  to  speak ! 
The  deuce  !  too  much  !  too  much  !     Am  I  week  after 

week 
To     waste     for    nothing   here  ?  —  Damnation !    why 

remain 
If  you  don't  care  ?     I'll  go  to-morrow  off  again. 

SOPHIA. 

Beloved  one !     Best  one ! 

ALCESTES. 

Ay,  my  grief  you  see  and  know, 
Aiid  you  remain  unmoved !     I'll  hence  for  ever  go. 


Scene  V.  —  The  Above.     The  Host. 

HOST. 

A  letter,  sir,  —  from  some  great  person,  I  opine. 
The  seal  is  very  large :  the  paper,  too,  is  fine. 

(Alcestes  fears  open  the  letter). 

HOST   {aside). 
What's  in  this  letter,  I  should  vastly  like  to  know ! 

ALCESTES  {wlio  has  read  the  letter  through  hastily). 

To-morrow  morning  hence  full  early  I  must  go. 
The  bill ! 


376  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 


HOST. 


To  start  off  thus,  at  such  a  time  of  raui, 
The  letter  must  indeed  important  news  contain. 
May  I  perchance  presume  to  ask  your  Honour  why  ? 


ALCESTES. 

No! 

HOST    {to  SOPHIA). 

Ask  him  :  he  to  you  will  certainly  reply. 
{He  goes  to  the  table  at  the  bottom  of  the  stage,  where 
he  takes  his  books  out  of  the  drawer,  sits  down, 
and  makes  out  the  bill.) 

SOPHIA. 

Alcestes,  is  it  so  ? 

ALCESTES, 

Her  coaxing  face,  just  see  ! 

SOPHIA. 

Alcestes,  I  entreat,  depart  not  thus  from  me ! 

ALCESTES. 

Make  up  your  mind  at  once  to  see  me,  then,  to-night. 

SOPHIA   (aside). 

What  shall  —  what  can  I  do  !     He  must  not  leave  my 

sight : 
My  only  joy  is  he  — 

(Aloud.)     You  see,  I  never  can  — 
Kemember,  I'm  a  wife. 


THE  FELLOW   CULPRITS  377 

ALCESTES. 

The  Devil  take  the  man  ! 
You'll  be  a  widow  then !     Tliese   passing    hours   em- 
ploy : 
Perchance  they'll  be  the  last,  as  well  as  first,  of  joy. 
One  word.     At  midnight,  then,  my  love,  I  shall  appear. 

SOPHIA. 

My  father's  chamber  is  to  mine  so  very  near. 

ALCESTES. 

Well,  then,  you'll  come  to  me  !     Why  this  considera- 
tion ? 
The  moments  fly  away  'midst  all  your  hesitation. 
Here,  take  the  keys. 

SOPHIA. 

My  key  will  open  ev'ry  door. 

ALCESTES. 

Then  come,  my  darling  child  !     Why  trifle  any  more  ? 
Now,  will  you  ? 

SOPHIA. 

Willi? 

ALCESTES. 

Well? 

SOPHIA. 

Yes,  I  will  come  to  you. 

ALCESTES   {to  the  HOST). 

Mine  host,  I  shall  not  go. 


378  THE   FELLOW  CULPRITS 


HOST  {advancing). 

Good! 
{To  Sophia.)  Wherefore  this  ado  ? 


SOPHIA. 

Nought  will  he  say. 

HOST. 

What,  nought  ? 


Scene  VL  —  The  Above.     Soller. 
alcestes. 


My  hat 


SOPHIA. 

There  lies  it !  here  ! 

ALCESTES. 

Adieu,  I  must  be  off. 

SOLLER. 

I  wish  you,  sir,  good  cheer ! 
ALCESTES. 

Fair  madam,  fare  you  well ! 

SOPHIA. 

Farewell ! 

SOLLER. 

Your  humble  servant! 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  379 


ALCESTES. 
I  first  must  go  up-stairs. 

SOLLER  (aside). 
Each  day  he  grows  more  fervent, 

HOST  [taking  a  light). 
Allow  me,  sir, 

ALCESTES  (taking  it  politely  out  of  his  hand). 

Good  host,  indeed  I  can't  consent! 

(Exit.) 

SOPHIA. 

Well,  Soller,  you  are  off' !     How  if  I  also  went  ? 

SOLLER, 

Aha !  you  now  would  fain  — 

SOPHIA. 

No,  go  !  I  spoke  in  jest, 

SOLLER. 

No,  no  !     I  understand  this  longing  in  your  breast. 
If  one  a  person  sees  who's  going  to  a  ball 
While  one  must  go  to  bed,  full  hard  'tis  after  all. 
There'll  be  another  soon. 

SOPHIA. 

Oh,  yes,  to  wait  I'm  able. 
Now,  Soller,  be  discreet,  and  shun  the  gaming-table. 
(To  the  Host,  ivho  has  ineanwhile  been  standing  in 
deep  thought.) 
And  now,  good  night,  papa.     I'm  off  to  bed,  you  see. 


380  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

HOST, 
Good  night,  Sophia  dear. 

SOLLER, 

Sleep  well! 
{^Looking  after  her)   Eight  fair  is  she ! 
{He  runs  after  her,  and  kisses  her  again  at  the  door. 
Sleep  well,  my  lamb  ! 

(To  the  Host.)     And  you  will  also  go  to  bed  ! 

HOST. 

A  devil's  letter  that !     I'd  like  to  hear  it  read  ! 
{To  SoLLER.)  Now,  Carnival !     Good  night ! 

SOLLER. 

Thanks  !     Calm  be  your  repose  ! 

HOST. 

Good  Soller,  when  you  go,  take  care  the  door  to  close  ! 

{Exit.') 

SOLLEE. 

You  needn't  be  alarmed  ! 

Scene  VII. 

SOLLER  {alone'). 

What  song  will  now  be  sung  ? 
Oh,  that  accursed  play  !     I  wish  the  rogue  were  hung ! 
His  figures  were  not  fair,  and  I  must  bear  it  too ! 
He  storms  and  fumes  away :  I  know  not  what  to  do. 
Suppose  .  .  .  Alcestes  gold  has  got  .  .  .  and  my  false 

keys  — 
I'm  sure  at  my  expense  he  fain  himself  would  please. 
I  long  have  hated  him ;  around  my  wife  he  slinks ; 


THE   FELLOW  CULPRITS  381 

And  now,  just  for  this  once,  I'll  be  his  guest,  methinks. 
But  then,  if  it  were  known,  there'd  be  the  deuce  to 

pay  — 
I'm  now  in  such  distress,  I  know  no  other  way. 
The  gamester  claims  his  gold,  or  threatens  vengeance 

deep. 
Then,  Soller,  courage  take  !     The  whole  house  is  asleep. 
And  if  it  be  found  out,  they'll  find  me  safely  bedded : 
Thieves  oft  escape  who  are  to  handsome  women  wedded. 

{Exit.) 


ACT   II. 

Alcestess    Boom. 

The  stage  is  divided  in  its  length  into  parlour  and  aleove. 
On  one  side  of  the  parlour  stands  a  table,  on  which 
are  pai^ers  and  a  strong  box.  At  the  bottom  is  a 
large  door,  and  at  the  side  a  small  one,  opposite 
the  alcove. 

Scene   I. 

SOLLER  {in  his  domino,  with  a  mask  on  his  face,  with- 
out shoes,  a  dark  lantern  in  his  hand,  enters  at  the 
little  door,  and  turns  the  light  fearfully  round  the 
room :  he  then  advances  more  boldly,  takes  off  his 
mask  and  speaks). 

One  need  not  valiant  be,  in  following  one's  calling : 
One  through  the  world  may  go  by  cunning  and  by 

crawling. 
While  one,  to  get  a  bag  of  gold,  or  p'rhaps  his  death. 
With  pistols   armed,  will   come   and   say  with  bated 

breath, 
"  Give  up  your  purse,  and  lose  no  time  about  it,  pray," 


382  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

As  quietly  as  if  he  only  said,  Good  day. 

Another  round  you  steals,  and  with  his  magic  passes 

And    sleight-of-hand  your  watch  soon  in  his  power, 

alas !  is ; 
And  when  you  seek  it,  he  says  boldly  to  your  face, 
"  I'll  steal  it.    Take  good  care  ; "  and  that  is  soon  the  case. 
But  Nature  gave  me  ne'er  endowments  such  as  that : 
My  heart  too  tender  is,  my  fingers  are  too  fat. 
Yet,  not  to  be  a  rogue,  is  difficult  indeed : 
Each  day  the  cash  grows  less,  each  day  the  more  we 

need. 
You  now  have  made  the  leap :  take  care  that  you  don't 

fall! 
Each  person  in  the  house  beheves  I'm  at  the  ball. 
Alcestes  at  the  fete  is  now ;  my  wife's  alone : 
Has  constellation  e'er  a  better  aspect  shown  ? 

{Approaching  the  table.) 
Oh,  come,  thou  holy  one  !    Thou  god  in  this  strong  box  ! 
Without  thee,  e'en  a  king  is  scarcely  orthodox. 
Ye  picklocks,  many  thanks  !  your  merit  is  untold  : 
Through  you  I  capture  him,  the  mighty  picklock, — 

Gold  !     (  Whilst  he  is  trying  to  open  the  strong  hex.') 
An  extra  clerk  I  once  was  in  a  court  of  justice : 
I  didn't  stop  there  long,  —  so  little  people's  trust  is. 
'Twas  write,  write,  write,  all  day,  with  trouble   still 

increasing : 
The  prospects  were  not  good,  the  drudgery  unceasing ; 
'Twas  insupportable.     A  thief  was  caught  one  day : 
False  keys  were  on  him  found,  and  he  was  hanged 

straightway. 
Tenacious  of  her  rights  is  justice  known  to  be : 
A  subaltern  was  I,  the  false  keys  fell  to  me. 
I  picked  them  up.     A  thing  may  seem  for  httle  fit. 
But  there  may  come  a  time  when  you'll  be  glad  of  it. 
And  now  {TJie  loch  springs  open). 

0  lovely  coin !     I  feel  like  one  possessed. 

(^He  puts  money  in  his  pocket.') 


X 


THE  FELLOW   CULPRITS  383 

My  pocket  swells  with  cash,  with  rapture  swells  my 

breast  — 
Unless   'tis    fright.      IJut   hark !      Ye   coward    hmbs ! 

Pooh,  pooli ! 
Why  tremble  thus  ?  —  Enough  ' 

(^He  looks  into  the   strong   box   again,  and  takes 
more  money.') 

Once  more !     Yes,  that  will  do. 

(i/e  closes  it  and  starts.') 

Again  ?      There's   something   stirs  !      This  house  was 

never  haunted  — 
The  devil  'tis,  perchance !     His  presence  isn't  wanted. 
Is  it  a  cat  ?     But  no !     Tom-cats  walk  hghter,  rather. 
Be  quick  !     They're  at  the  lock  — 

(He  springs  into  the  alcove.) 

Scene    II.  —  The  Host  {entering  at  the  side  door  with 
a  wax  candle).     Soller. 

SOLLER. 

The  deuce  !     It's  my  wife's  father  ! 

HOST. 

'Tis  folly  to  possess  a  nervous  disposition : 
Half  guilty  only  yet,  my  heart's  in  ebullition. 
Inquisitive  I  ne'er  in  all  my  life  have  been. 
But  m  that  letter  some  great  secret  may  be  seen. 
The  papers  are  so  dull,  they  long  have  nothing  told : 
The  newest  thing  one  hears  is  always  one  month  old. 
And  then,  indeed,  it  is  a  most  excessive  bore, 
When  each  one  says :  "Oh,  yes !  I've  read  your  tale 

before." 
Were  I  a  cavalier,  a  minister  I'd  be ; 
Then  all  the  couriers  needs  must  bring  their  news  to  me. 
This  letter  I  can't  find.     Perchance  he  left  it  not : 
If  so,  confound  it  all !     There's  nothing  to  be  got. 


384  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

SOLLER  {aside). 

You  good  old  fool !     I  see  the  god  of  news  and  thieves 
Less  worship  gets  from  you  than  he  from  me  receives. 


HOST. 

I  cannot  find  it  —  Hah  !  —  Just  hark !     What  noise  is 

that 
In  the  saloon  ?  — 

SOLLER. 

Perchance  he  smells  me ! 


HOST. 

By  the  pat, 
It  is  a  woman's  foot. 

SOLLER. 

That  hardly  meets  my  case. 
HOST  (hloivs  out  his  candle,  and  lets  it  fall,  whilst  in  his 

confusion  he  can^iot  unlock  the  little  door). 
This  lock  still  bothers  me. 

(^Pushes  open  the  door,  and  exit.'} 


Scene  III.  —  Sophia,  entering  at  the  bottom  door  vnth  a 

light.     Soller. 

SOLLER  (aside,  in  the  alcove^. 

It  is  a  woman's  face  ! 
Hell !   Devil !   'Tis  my  wife !   What  can  this  indicate  ? 


SOPHIA. 

I  quake  at  this  bold  step. 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  385 


SOLLER. 


'Tis  slie,  as  sure  as  fate ! 
A  pretty  rendezvous !     But  now  suppose  again 
I  showed  myself !     My  neck  would  be  in  danger  then. 

SOPHIA. 

Just  follow  in  IfOve's  wake!     With  friendly  mien  he 

first 
Allures  you  on  awhile  — 

SOLLEK. 

I  feel  that  I  shall  burst. 
But  I  dare  not  — 

SOPHIA. 

.  But  if  you  ever  lose  your  way, 
No  ignis  fatuus  e'en  such  cruel  tricks  will  play. 

SOLLER. 

A  bog  to  you  would  prove  less  than  this  room  a  curse. 

SOPHIA. 

Matters  have  long  gone  ill,  but  now  grow  daily  worse. 
My  husband  gets  quite  wild.     He  always  caused  me 

trouble ; 
But  now  so  bad  is  he,  I  hate  him  nearly  double. 

SOLLER. 

You  wretch ! 

SOPHIA. 

He  has  my  hand.     Alcestes,  as  erewhile, 
My  heart  possesses  still. 


386  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

SOLLEE. 

Enchantment,  poison  vile 
Were  not  so  bad! 

SOPHIA. 

This  heart,  which  for  him  fiercely  burned, 
And    which   from    him    alone    the    art    of   love    first 
learned  — 

SOLLER. 

The  deuce ! 

SOPHIA. 

.  .  .  Was  calm  and  cold,  ere  softened  by  Alcestes. 

SOLLER. 

Ye   husbands,  hear  the   tale   that   now    by  her  con- 
fessed is ! 

SOPHIA. 

Alcestes  loved  me  well. 

SOLLER. 

That's  over  long  ago. 

SOPHIA. 

And  how  I  loved  him  too ! 

SOLLER. 

Mere  child's  play,  as  you  know. 

SOPHIA. 

Fate  parted  us  ;  and,  ah  !  my  sins  to  expiate, 

I  needs  must  wed  a  brute.  —  Oh,  what  a  dreadful  fate  ! 


THE   FELLOW   CULPRITS  387 

SOLLER. 

A  brute  am  I  ?  —  A  brute  ?     A  brute  with  horns,  too, 
uow. 

SOPHIA. 

Wliat  see  I  ? 

SOLLER. 

Madam,  what  ? 

SOPHIA. 

My  father's  candle  !     How 
Could  it  come  here  ?  —  Suppose.  ...  If  so,  I  needs 

must  fly. 
Perchance  he's  watching  us !  — 

SOLLER. 

Your  scourge,  0  conscience,  ply  ! 

SOPHIA. 

Yet  I  can't  understand  how  he  could  lose  it  here. 

SOLLER. 

Fears  she  her  father  not,  the  devil  she  won't  fear. 

SOPHIA. 

Ah,  no !  all  in  the  house  in  deepest  slumber  lie. 

SOLLER. 

Ay,  lust  more  potent  is  than  fear  of  penalty, 

SOPHIA. 

My  father  is  in  bed.  —  How  ever  could  it  be  ? 
Well,  be  it  so  ! 


388  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

SOLLER. 


Alas! 


SOPHIA. 

Alcestes,  where  is  he  ? 


SOLLER. 

Oh,  could  I  but  — 

SOPHIA. 

My  heart  forebodes  some  coming  evil : 
I  love  and  fear  him  too. 

SOLLER. 

I  fear  him  like  the  devil, 
And   more  too.     If  he   came,   I'd   say :    "  Good   king 

infernal, 
If  you  will  take  them  off,  I'll  owe  you  thanks  eternal." 

SOPHIA. 

Thou  art  too  honest,  heart!     What  crime  committest 

thou  ? 
Thou  vowedst  to  be  true  ?     Why  care  for  such  a  vow  ? 
True  to  that  man  to  be,  who  has  no  single  merit, 
Who  is  so  very  coarse,  false,  foohsh  ? 

SOLLER. 

Thanks,  I  hear  it ! 

SOPHIA. 

If  one  may  not  detest  such  monsters  for  their  pains, 
I  much  prefer  the  land  where  devil-worship  reigns. 
He  is  a  devil ! 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  389 

SOLLER. 
What  ?     A  devil  ?     Monster  ?     Me  ! 
I  cannot  bear  it  more.  {He  is  about  to  spring  out.) 

Scene  IV.  —  Alcestes  (dressed  with  hat  and  sword, 
covered  with  a  eloak,  which  he  immediately  takes 
off).     The  Above. 

ALCESTES. 

You're  waiting,  then,  I  see. 

SOPHIA. 

Sophia  came  here  first. 

ALCESTES. 

You  fear  ? 

SOPHIA. 

I'm  fainting  nearly. 

ALCESTES. 

No,  dearest,  no  ? 

SOLLER. 

How  fond !     Prehminaries  merely. 

SOPHIA. 

You  feel  how  much  this  heart  has  suffered  for  your 

sake,  — 
This  heart  you  understand :  forgive  the  step  I  take ! 

ALCESTES. 

Sophia ! 


390  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

SOPHIA.. 
Ne'er  shall  I,  if  you  forgive  it,  rue. 

SOLLER. 

You'd  better  ask  of  me  if  I  forgive  it  too. 

SOPHIA. 

What  made  me  hither  come  ?    In  truth,  I  scarce  know- 
why. 

SOLLER. 

I  know  it  but  too  well. 

SOPHIA. 

As  one  that  dreams  am  I. 

SOLLER. 

Would  I  were  dreaming  too  ! 

SOPHIA. 

A  heart  full  of  distress 
1  bring  to  you. 

ALCESTES. 

To  tell  one's  trouble  makes  it  less. 

SOPHIA. 

A  sympathetic  heart  like  yours  I  ne'er  did  see. 

SOLLER. 

"Wlien  you  together  yawn,  you  call  that  sympathy ! 
Delightful ! 


THE   FELLOW  CULPRITS  391 


SOPHIA. 


And  when  thus  a  perfect  man  I've  found, 
Why  to  your  opposite  am  I  for  ever  bound  ? 
I  have  a  heart  which  ne'er  to  virtue  said  adieu. 


ALCESTES. 

I  know  it. 

SOLLEE. 

Yes,  and  I. 

SOPHIA. 

Though  lovable  are  you, 

One  single  word  from  me  you  never  should  have 
guessed, 

Unless  this  hapless  heart  were  hopelessly  oppressed. 

I  day  by  day  behold  our  house  to  ruin  go. 

The  life  my  husband  leads  !     How  can  we  go  on  so ! 

I  know  he  loves  me  not ;  my  tears  he  never  sees : 

And  when  my  father  storms,  him  too  must  I  appease. 

Each  morning  with  it  brings  fresh  ground  for  provoca- 
tion. 

SOLLEE  {touched  after  a  fashion). 
Poor  woman !    I  confess  there's  cause  for  her  vexation. 

SOPHIA. 

My  husband  has  no  wish  to  lead  a  proper  life : 
In  vain  I  talk ;  no  man  has  such  a  yielding  wife. 
He  revels  all  the  day,  makes  debts  on  ev'ry  side : 
At  once  he  plays,  fights,  sneaks,  and  quarrels  far  and 

wide. 
His  only  wit  consists  in  folly  and  wild  pranks. 
His  only  cleverness  is  that  of  mountebanks. 
He  Hes,  traduces,  cheats. 


392  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

SOLLEK. 

She's  gath'ring  now,  I  see, 
Materials  to  compose  my  fun'ral  eulogy. 

SOPHIA. 

The  torments  I  endure  are  quite  enough  to  kill, 
Did  I  not  know  — 

SOLLER. 

Speak  out ! 

SOPHIA. 

Alcestes  loves  me  still. 

ALCESTES. 

He  loves,  complains  like  you. 

SOPHIA. 

It  mitigates  my  pain, 
From  one,  at  least,  —  from  you,  —  compassion  to  obtain. 
Alcestes,  by  this  hand,  this  dear  hand,  I  entreat 
That  you  will  ever  keep  your  heart  unchanged. 

SOLLER. 

How  sweet 
Her  words  are ! 

SOPHIA. 

For  this  heart,  which  save  for  you  ne'er  glowed, 
No  other  comfort  knows  than  that  by  you  bestowed. 

ALCESTES. 

I  know  of  nought  that's  fit  to  match  your  noble  heart. 
{He  takes  Sophia  in  Ms  arms  and  kisses  her.) 

SOLLER. 

Alas !  will  no  kind  fate  appear,  to  take  my  part  ? 
My  heart  is  full  of  woe. 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  393 

SOPHIA. 
My  friend ! 

SOLLER. 

'Tis  quite  enough. 
I'm  altogether  sick  of  friendship  and  such  stuff. 
And  since  it  seems  that  they  have  nothing  more  to  say, 
I  wish  they'd  kiss  no  more,  and  forthwith  go  their 
way ! 

SOPHIA. 

Unkind  one,  let  me  go ! 

SOLLER. 

The  deuce  !     What  affectation ! 
"  Unkind  one,  let  me  go  ! "  that  means  capitulation. 
"  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  ! "  the  stale  cry  is  of  many. 
As  down  the  hill  they  fall.     I  wouldn't  give  a  penny 
Now  for  her  virtue. 

SOPHIA  {extricating  herself). 

Friend,  one  final  parting  kiss, 
And  then  farewell ! 

ALCESTES. 

You  go  ? 

SOPHIA. 

I  go,  for  needful  'tis. 

ALCESTES. 

You  love  me,  and  you  go  ? 

SOPHIA. 

I  go,  because  I  love. 
I  soon  should  lose  a  friend,  did  I  not  quickly  move. 
The  course  of  one's  laments  to  run  at  night  prefers, 
In  some  sure  spot,  where  nought  to  startle  us  occurs. 


394  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

We  more  confiding  grow,  when  calmly  we  complain ; 

But  for  our  weaker  sex,  the  risks  increase  amain. 

In  over-confidence  too  many  dangers  lie : 

A  sorrow-softened  heart  the  mouth  will  not  deny 

At  such  a  happy  time  to  friends  for  friendship's  kisses. 

A  friend  is  still  a  man  — 

SOLLER. 

She  knows  full  well  what  this  is. 

SOPHIA. 

Farewell,  and  be  assured  that  I  am  still  your  lover. 

SOLLER. 

Quite  close  above  my  head  the  storm  is  passing  over. 
{Exit  Sophia.    Alcestes  accompanies  her  through 
the  middle  door,  which  remains  open.      Tliey 
are  seen  to  stand  together  in  the  distance. 
For  tliis  once  be  content.     I've  small  time  for  reflec- 
tion : 
The  moment  'tis  to  fly  ;  I'm  off  in  this  direction. 

{He  quits  the  alcove,  and  hastens  through  the  side 
door) 

Scene  V. 

alcestes  {returning). 

What  wouldest  thou,  my  heart  ?     Indeed,  'tis  passing 

strange, 
How   that   dear    creature   has    for    thee    endured    no 

change ! 
Thy  early  gratitude  for  those  past  hours  so  bright 
Of  love's  first  happiness,  has  not  departed  quite. 
What  have  I  purposed  not !     What  feelings  have  been 

mine  ! 
Still  uneffaced  remains  that  image  all  divine, 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  395 

Where    love,    in    glorious    wise,    its    presence    first 

avowed,  — 
The  image  at  whose  shrine  my  heart  with  reverence 

bowed. 
How  all  is  altered  now !     What  change  comes  o'er  our 

lives ! 
Yet  of  that  sacred  glow  a  something  still  survives. 
If  truly  thou'lt  confess  what  made  thee  hither  come, 
The  page   will   be   turned    o'er,   thy  love  afresh  will 

bloom. 
And  thy  free-thinking  ways,  thy  distant  schemes,  the 

shame 
By  thee  for  her  devised,  the  plan  which  thou  didst 

frame,  — 
How  vile  they  now  appear !     Thou  art  distressed  at 

last? 
Before  thou  snaredst  her,  she  long  had  held  thee  fast ! 
This  is  the  lot  of  man  !     We  hurry  on  apace, 
And  he  who  thinks  the  most  is  in  the  saddest  case. 
But  now  to  urgent  things :  a  plan  must  I  invent 
Whereby  to-morrow  she  may  have  some  money  lent. 
It  is  a  cursed  mischance :  her  fate  my  pity  wakes. 
Her  husband,  that  vile  wretch,  her  life  a  burden  makes. 
I've  got  here  just  enough.    Let's  think  !  —  yes,  it  will  do. 
Were  I  a  stranger  e'en,  her  hard  lot  I  must  rue. 
But,  ah !  this  mournful  thought  my  heart  and  mind 

oppresses  — 
My  conduct  far  too  much  the  cause  of  her  distress  is. 
I  could  not  hinder  it ;  to  happen  thus  'twas  fated. 
What  cannot  now  be  changed,  may  be  alleviated. 

[He  opens  the  strong  box) 
The  Devil!     What  is  this?     My  strong  box    empty 

nearly  ? 
Of  all  the  silver  there,   three-fourths    have    vanished 

clearly. 
I   have    the    gold    with    me.     The    keys    are    in    my 

pocket !  — 


396  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

All  since  the  afternoon  !  My  room  —  who  could  un- 
lock it  ? 

Sophia  ?    Pshaw  !   But  yes,  —  Sophia !    Base  suspicion  ! 

My  servant  ?     No  !  that's,  too,  a  f  oohsh  supposition. 

He's  fast  asleep.     Good  man,  his  innocence  I  know. 

Who  then  ?  By  heaven,  the  thought  impatient  makes 
me  grow. 

ACT   III. 

Scene  I.  —  The  Inn  Parlour. 

HOST. 

(/ot.  a  dressing-gown,  sitting  near  the  table,  on  which  are 
a  half -burnt  candle,  coffee-things,  pipes  and  news- 
papers. After  the  first  few  verses  he  rises,  and 
dresses  himself  during  this  scene  and  the  beginning 
of  the  next. 

That  letter,  hang  the  thing  !  of  sleep  and  rest  it  robs  me. 
This  comes  from  doing  what  I  oughtn't,  well  I  see. 
It  seems  impossible  to  make  this  matter  out : 
When  one  is  doing  wrong,  the  Devil's  there,  no  doubt. 
'Twas  my  vocation  ne'er,  and  therefore  I'm  afraid ; 
And  yet  of  any  host  it  never  should  be  said 
He  fears,  when  in  the  house  strange  noises  he  perceives. 
For  ghosts,  as  is  well  known,   are  close  allied  with 

thieves. 
No  man  was  in  the  house,  not  Soller  nor  Alcestes  ; 
The  waiter  it  was  not ;  each  maiden  gone  to  rest  is. 
But  stop !     At  early  dawn,  perchance  'tween  three  and 

four, 
I  heard  a  gentle  noise :  it  was  Sophia's  door. 
She,  maybe,  was  the  ghost  at  whose  approach  I  fled : 
It  was  a  woman's  foot,  just  hke  Sophia's  tread. 
But   then,   what   did    she   there  ?     One   knows    that 

women-kind 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  397 

To  pulling  things  about  and  meddling  are  inclined : 
Guests'  clothes  and  linen  they  inspect.     I  wish  I  first 
Had  finely  frightened  her,  then  into  laughter  burst. 
She  would  have  searched  with  me  —  the  letter   had 

been  found : 
My  efforts,  now  in  vain,  had  with  success  been  crowned. 
Curse  it !     One  ne'er  can  think  when  one  is  in  a  strait, 
And  any  plan  that's  good  is  thought  of  just  too  late ! 


Scene  II.  —  The  Host,  Sophia. 

SOPHIA. 

My  father,  only  think  !  — 

HOST. 

You  do  not  say  good-morrow  ? 

SOPHIA. 

Oh,  pardon  me,  papa !  my  head  is  full  of  sorrow. 

HOST. 

And  why  ? 

SOPHIA. 

Alcestes'  cash,  which  he  received  so  lately, 
Has  altogether  gone. 

HOST. 

That  comes  from  gambling  greatly. 
They  can't  restrain  themselves. 

SOPHIA. 

Not  so  :  'tis  stolen  ! 

HOST 

What ! 


398  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

SOPHIA.. 

Yes,  stolen  from  his  room ! 


HOST. 

I  wish  the  thief  were  shot ! 
Who  is  it  ?     Quick  ! 

SOPHIA. 

Who  knows  ? 

HOST. 

What !     In  this  house,  you  say  ? 

SOPHIA. 

Out  of  the  box  which  on  his  table  stands  all  day. 

HOST. 

And  when  ? 

SOPHIA. 

This  night ! 

(host  aside). 

Since  I  so  curious  was,  the  scandal 
Will  surely  fall  on  me,  for  they  will  find  my  candle. 

SOPHIA   (aside). 

He  mutters,  looks  confused.      Can  he  the  culprit  be  ? 
That  he  was  in  the  room,  his  candle  proves  to  me. 

HOST  (aside). 

Can  she  have  taken  it  ?     The  notion  makes  me  swear : 
Cash  yesterday  ran  short,  and  she  to-night  was  there. 
(Aloud.)     This  is  a  dreadful   mess.     Who  injures  us 

take  heed  ! 
Eespectable  and  cheap  our  watchwords  are  indeed. 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  399 


SOPHIA. 


Though  he  may  bear  the  loss,  'tis  we  who'll  suffer  most 
The  public  will  be  sure  to  lay  it  to  the  host. 


HOST. 


I  know  that  but  too  well.     A  dreadful  mess,  no  doubt. 
If  'tis  a  house-thief,  who  will  find  the  rascal  out  ? 


Much  trouble  it  will  give. 


SOPHIA. 

What  shall  we  do  ?     Good  lack  ! 

HOST  {aside). 

Aha,  she's  much  disturbed  ! 

{Aloud,  in  a  more  peevish  tone.)     I  wish  he  had  it  back  ! 

Eight  glad  were  I. 

SOPHIA  {aside). 

He  now  repents,  'tis  my  belief. 
{Aloud?)     And  if  it  were  restored,  whoever  was  the 

thief. 
He  need  not  know,  and  soon  'twill  from  his  memory 

pass. 

HOST  {aside). 

If  she  is  not  the  thief  then  write  me  down  an  ass. 
{Aloud.)    A  good  child  you  have  been.     My  confidence 

in  you  — 
Just  wait !  {He  goes  to  the  door  to  see.) 

SOPHIA  {aside). 
By  heaven  !  he  means  to  make  confession  true ! 


400  THE   FELLOW  CULPRITS 

HOST. 

My  child,  I  know  you  well.     A  lie  you  never  told  — 

SOPHIA. 

Sooner  from  all  the  world  than  you  I'd  aught  withhold  ; 
And  so  I  hope  that  now  you'll  also  be  assured  — 

HOST. 

You  are  my  child :  what  can't  be  cured  must  be  endured. 

SOPHIA. 

The  best  of  hearts  sometimes  is  subject  to  temptation. 

HOST. 

Oh,  let  the  past  no  more  occasion  us  vexation  ! 
That  you  were  in  the  room,  no  mortal  knows  but  I. 

SOPHIA  {startled). 
You  know  ?  — 

HOST. 

Yes,  I  was  there.     I  heard  you  passing  by. 
I  knew  not  who  it  was,  and  started  off  full  speed. 

SOPHIA  {aside). 
Yes,  he  the  money  has.     There's  now  no  doubt  indeed. 

HOST. 

This  morning  heard  I  you,  I  lately  recollected. 

SOPHIA. 

And,  what  is  best  of  all,  you  will  not  be  suspected : 
I  found  the  candle  — 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  4°! 

HOST. 
You? 

SOPHIA. 

Yes,  I ! 

HOST. 

'Tis  passing  strange  ! 
To  give  it  back  again,  how  can  we  best  arrange  ? 

SOPHIA. 

You'll  say,  "  Alcestes,  sir,  do  spare  my  house,  I  pray  ! 
Behold  your  money,  I  have  found  the  thief  to-day. 
You  know  yourself   how  great   we  find  temptation's 

force : 
He  scarcely  had  the  cash,  when  vast  was  his  remorse. 
He  came  and  gave  it  me.     Here  'tis!     Let   him  be 

pardoned 
For   his    offence ! "  —  I'm    sure    Alcestes'    heart's  not 

hardened. 

HOST. 

You  certainly  can  use  persuasion  soft  as  honey. 

SOPHIA. 

Yes,  that's  the  proper  way. 

HOST. 

I  first  must  have  the  money. 

SOPHIA. 

You  have  it  not  ? 

HOST. 

How  I  should  have  it,  I  can't  see. 


402  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

SOPHIA. 

How  have  it  ? 

HOST. 

Yes  !     Well,  how  ?     Unless  you  give  it  me. 

SOPHIA. 

Who  has  it  ? 

HOST. 

Who? 

SOPHIA. 

Of  course,  if  'tis  not  you  ? 

HOST. 

Absurd. 

SOPHIA. 

Where  have  you  put  it  ? 


You  haven't  got  it  ? 


HOST. 

I  can't  understand  a  word. 

SOPHIA. 

I? 

HOST. 

Yes! 

SOPHIA. 

How  could  that  be  so  ? 


HOST  (making  signs  as  if  he  were  stealing). 
Eh! 


THE   FELLOW   CULPRITS  403 

SOPHIA. 

I  can't  understand ! 

HOST. 

Quite  shameless,  child,  you  grow. 
You  slip  away  when  comes  the  time  for  restitution. 
You  have  confess'd.      ¥ot  shame  on  such  irresolution  ! 

SOPHIA. 

This  is  too  much  !  You  now  make  this  vile  accusation. 
Just  now  you  said  that  you  gave  way  to  the  temptation. 

HOST. 

You  toad  !     I  said  so  ?     When  ?     Is  this  the  way  you 

love  me. 
And  show  me  due  respect  ?     A  thief  you  try  to  prove 

me. 
When  you're  the  thief  yourself  ! 

SOPHIA. 

My  father ! 


HOST. 


This  morning  in  the  room  ? 


Yet  you  were 


To  say  you've  not  the  cash  ? 


SOPHIA. 

Yes! 

HOST. 

Yet  you  still  can  dare 


SOPHIA. 

That  does  not  follow. 


404  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

HOST. 

Yes! 

SOPHIA. 

You,  too,  were  there  to-day  — 

HOST. 

I'll  pull  your  hair,  unless 
You  hold  your  tongue  and  go  !      {Exit  Sophia  crying) 

You  take  the  joke  too  far, 
Unworthy  one  !  —  She's  gone  !    Too  impudent  you  are. 
Perchance  she  thinks  that  lies  will  make  him  over- 
look it. 
Enough,  the  money's  gone,  and  she's   the   one    who 
took  it. 


Scene   III.  —  Alcestes  (in  deep  thought,  in  a  frock- 
coat).     Tlie  Host. 

host  {in  an  embarrassed  and  entreating  tone). 

Eight  sorrowful  am  I  at  what  I've  lately  heard. 
"Well  understand  I,  sir,  how  you  by  wrath  are  stirr'd  ; 
And  yet  I  beg  that  you  will  nothing  say  about  it, 
And  I  will  do  what's  right.    I  pray  you  do  not  doubt  it. 
If  in  the  town  'tis  known,  'twill  fill  my  foes  with  glee. 
And  their  maliciousness  will  throw  the  guilt  on  me. 
It  was  no  stranger,  sir.     The  culprit  is  indoors. 
Be  calm,  and  soon  again  the  money  shall  be  yours. 
Pray,  what  w^as  the  amount  ? 

alcestes. 

A  hundred  dollars  ! 

host. 

What! 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  405 


ALCESTES. 

A  hundred  dollars,  though  — 

HOST. 

Contemptible  are  not ! 

ALCESTES. 

Yet  I  am  quite  disposed  my  pardon  to  bestow, 
Could  I  the  culprit's  name,  and  how  he  did  it,  know. 

HOST. 

Had  I  the  money  back,  I  ne'er  would  ask,  I  vow, 
If  Michael  or  if  Jack  had  taken  it,  or  how. 

ALCESTES  (aside). 

My  old  attendant  ?     No,  he  cannot  be  the  thief. 
And  from  my  chamber  too  —     It  passes  all  behef. 

HOST. 

Why  rack  your  brains  like  this  ?     The  trouble  is  in 

vain. 
Enough,  I'll  find  the  cash  ! 

ALCESTES. 

My  cash  ? 


HOST. 


I  ask  again 


That  none  may  know  of  it!     We  long  have  known 

each  other : 
Enough,  I'll  find  your  cash,  so  give  yourself  no  bother ! 

ALCESTES. 

You  know  then  ?  — 


4o6  THE  FELLOW   CULPRITS 

HOST. 
H'm !     The  cash  you  soon  shall  have,  however. 

ALCESTES. 

But  only  tell  me  this  — 

HOST. 

Not  for  the  world,  no,  never  ! 

ALCESTES. 

Just  tell  me  who  it  was. 

HOST. 

I  say,  I  dare  not  say. 

ALCESTES. 

'Twas  some  one  in  the  house  ? 

HOST. 

Don't  ask  me  that,  I  pray ! 


ALCESTES. 


Was  it  the  servant  girl  ? 


HOST. 

Good  Hannah  ?     No,  not  she. 


ALCESTES. 

The  waiter  'twas,  perchance  ? 


HOST. 

No,  neither  was  it  he. 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  4°? 


ALCESTES. 

The  cook's  a  skilful  hand  — 


HOST. 

At  dishing  up  a  dinner. 


ALCESTES. 

The  scullion  Jack  ? 


HOST. 

He  ne'er  would  be  so  great  a  sinner. 


ALCESTES. 

The  gard'ner  it  might  be  ? 


HOST. 

No,  wrong  again,  I  guess. 

ALCESTES. 


The  gard'ner's  son  ? 


HOST. 

No,  no ! 


ALCESTES. 

Perchance  — 

HOST. 

The  house-dog  ?  —  Yes  ! 


ALCESTES  {aside). 

Just  wait  a  bit,  old  fool !  I'll  catch  you  by  and  by. 
{Aloud.)  Whoever  was  the  thief,  it  doesn't  signify, 
If  I  my  money  get.  {He  pretends  to  he  leaving.) 


4o8  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

HOST. 

True! 

ALCESTES  (as  if  a  sudden  thought  struck  him). 

Host,  I  see  by  chance,  sir, 
My  inkstand's   empty.      I   this   letter  straight    must 
answer, 

HOST. 

What !     Yesterday  it  came :  to  answer  it  to-day, 
Shows  that  it  weighty  is. 

ALCESTES. 

I  ought  not  to  delay. 

HOST, 

It  is  a  charming  thing  to  have  to  correspond, 

ALCESTES. 

It  is  not  always  so.     The  time  one  loses  on't 
Is  worth  more  than  the  game. 

HOST. 

'Tis  like  a  game  of  cards : 
A  single  trump  turns  up,  and  past  ill-luck  rewards. 
The  letter  yesterday  important  news,  however. 
Contains.     Might  I  inquire  — 

ALCESTES. 

Not  for  the  world,  no,  never ! 

HOST. 

Nought  from  America  ? 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  409 

ALCESTES, 

I  say,  I  dare  not  say. 


Is  Frederick  ill  again  ? 


HOST, 
ALCESTES. 

Don't  ask  me  that,  I  pray ! 


HOST. 

Are  matters  changed  in  Hesse  ?  are  people  going  ? 

ALCESTES. 

No! 


HOST. 

Perchance  the  Emperor  — 


ALCESTES. 

Yes,  that  may  well  be  so. 

HOST. 


Things  in  the  North  go  wrong  ? 


ALCESTES. 

I  cannot  swear  to  that. 


HOST. 

They  secretly  conspire  ? 


ALCESTES. 

Oh  !  people  love  to  chat. 


4IO  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

HOST. 

There's  no  disaster,  though  ? 


ALCESTES. 

Bravo  !     You  soon  will  guess. 

HOST. 

Perchance  in  the  late  frost  — 

ALCESTES. 

The  hares  were  frozen  ?  —  Yes  ! 

HOST. 

You  don't  appear  to  place  much  confidence  in  me. 

ALCESTES. 

When  folks  mistrustful  are,  we  trust  them  not,  you  see. 

HOST. 

What  mark  of  confidence  will  suit  your  purpose  better  ? 

ALCESTES. 

Well,  tell  me  who's  the  thief :  you  then  shall  read  my 

letter. 
Eight  good  the  bargain  is,  which  I  to  you  now  offer. 
Will  you  the  letter  have  ? 

HOST  {confused  and  eagerly). 

I  must  accept  your  proffer ! 
(Aside.)     Would  it  were  something  else,  which  he  from 
me  would  learn ! 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  411 


ALCESTES, 


You  see  that  one  good  turn  deserves  another  turn. 
That  I'll  the  secret  keep,  I  by  my  honour  swear. 

HOST  (aside). 

Would  that  this  letter  now  less  appetising  were  ! 
But  if  Sophia  —  she  should  see  my  tribulation  ! 
No  mortal  could  resivSt  such  wonderful  temptation. 
To  master  its  contents,  I  all  impatience  am. 

ALCESTES  (aside). 
No  greyhound  ever  rushed  so  wildly  at  a  ham. 

HOST  (ashamed,  giving  way,  and  still  hesitating). 
Well,  as  you  wish  it,  sir,  your  great  civility  — 

ALCESTES  (aside). 
He's  biting  now  — 

HOST. 

Demands  like  confidence  from  me. 
(Doubtfully  and  half  entreatingly.) 
You'll  let  me  see  at  once  the  letter,  sir,  because  — 

ALCESTES  (holding  out  the  letter). 
This  moment ! 

HOST  (slowly  approaching  alcestes  with  his  eyes  fixed 

on  the  letter). 

Well,  the  thief  — 

ALCESTES. 

The  thief ! 


412  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

HOST. 


Who  stole  it,  was  — 

ALCESTES. 

Well,  out  with  it ! 

HOST. 

Was  my  — 

ALCESTES. 

Well! 

HOST  {in  a  resolute  tone,  whilst  lie  comes  up  to  alcestes, 
and  tears  the  letter  from  his  hand). 

Was  my  daughter ! 

ALCESTES  (astonished). 

What! 

HOST  (comes  forward,  tears  the  cover  to  pieces  in  his 
eagerness  to  open  the  letter,  and  begins  to  read). 

"  Eight  honourable  sir !  " 

ALCESTES  (taking  him  by  the  shoulder). 

'Twas  she  ?     You're  telhng  not 
The  truth. 

HOST  (impatiently). 

Yes,  it  was  she !     And  much  distressed  am  I. 
(He  reads.)     "  And  also  "  — 

ALCESTES  (as  above). 
No,  good  host !     Sophia  !  'Tis  a  lie  ! 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  4^3 

HOST  (tears  himself  loose,  and  continues  without  answer- 
ing him). 

"  My  much  respected  "  — 

ALCESTES  (as  ahove). 

Wliat !     The  guilty  one  was  she  ? 
I'm  quite  confounded. 

HOST. 

"Sir"  — 

ALCESTES  (as  above). 

Now,  pray  just  answer  me! 
How  came  it  all  about  ? 

HOST. 

You  by  and  by  shall  hear. 

ALCESTES. 

Is  it  quite  sure  ? 

HOST. 

Quite  sure! 

ALCESTES  (^0  himself,  as  he  goes  out). 

Methiuks  my  course  is  clear. 

Scene  IV. 

HOST  (reads  and  speaks  between  whiles). 

"  And  patron  "  —  Has  he  gone  ?  —  "  The  very  friendly 

way 
In  which  you  view  my  faults,  induces  me  to-day 
Once  more  to  trouble  you"  —  What  faults  would  he 

confess  ? 


414  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

"  I  feel  assured,  kind  sir,  you'll  share  my  happiness." 
That's  good !  —  "  To-day  kind  Heaven  another  joy  has 

brought. 
And  you're  the  first  of  whom  my  thankful  heart  has 

thought. 
My  dear  wife  is  confined  of  her  sixth  son."  —  With 

rage 
I'm  fit  to  die  !  —  "  The  boy  appeared  upon  the  stage 
Quite  early."  —  Hang  or  drown  the  brat !  the  vile  in- 
vention ! 
"  And  I  make  bold  to  ask  if,  in  your  condescension  "  — 
I  feel  about  to  choke !     To  suffer  such  a  blow, 
Just  when  I'm  getting  old !     I  will  not  bear  it,  no ! 
Just  wait  a  bit !     Your  due  reward  shall  you  receive  : 
Alcestes,  you  shall  see !     My  house  you  straight  shall 

leave. 
So  good  a  friend  as  me  thus  shamefully  to  treat ! 
I'd  fain  inflict  on  him  a  retribution  meet. 
But  then  my  daughter  !     Oh  !  in  such  a  scrape  to  get 

her  ! 
And  I've  betrayed  her  for  a  mere  godfather's  letter ! 

{He  seizes  hold  of  Ms  wig.) 
Oh,  donkey  that  I  am !     I'm  in  my  dotage  now ! 
Oh,  letter,  cash,  and  trick !     I'll  kill  myself,  I  vow  ! 
With  what  shall    I    begin  ?     How  punish  such  vile 

tricks  ? 

(He  grasps  a  stick,  and  runs  roimd  the  stage.) 
If  any  one  comes  near,  I'll  thrash  him  into  snicks. 
If  I  but  had  them  here  who  planned  the  thing  so  wisely. 
By  all  the  powers  that  be,  I'd  currycomb  them  nicely ! 
I'll  die  unless  I  can  —  I'd  give  a  sight  of  cash 
To  see  the  servant  now  a  glass  or  bottle  smash ! 
I  shall  devour  myself.  —  Eevenge,  revenge  for  me  ! 

(2Ie  attacks  his  armchair  and  thrashes  it.) 
Ha  !    Thou  art  dusty  ?    Come  !    I'll  take  it  out  of  thee  ! 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  415 


Scene  V. 

TJie  Host  continuing  to  strike.  Soller  enters  and  is 
frightened.  He  is  in  his  domino,  with  his  mask 
hound  to  his  arm,  and  is  half  intoxicated. 

soller. 

What's  this  ?     Why,  is  he  mad  ?     Methiiiks  I'd  best 

be  mute ! 
I  shouldn't  care  to  be  that  armchair's  substitute  ! 
Some  evil  spirit  has  the  old  man  seized  to-day : 
'Twere  better  I  were  off.     It  isn't  safe  to  stay. 

HOST  (without  seeing  soller). 

I  can  no  more  !     Alas  !  how  ache  both  back  and  arm  ! 
(He  throws  himself  into  the  armchair.) 
My  body's  in  a  sweat. 

SOLLER  (aside). 

Yes,  motion  makes  us  warm. 
(He  shows  himself  to  the  Host.) 


Good  father ! 


host. 


Oh,  the  brute  !     The  night  in  revels  spends  he : 
I  vex  myself  to  death,  and  de'il  a  bit  attends  he. 
The  Shrovetide  fool  his  cash  at  play  and  dancing  loses, 
And  laughs,  while  holding  here  his  carnival  the  deuce 
is! 


In  such  a  rage ! 


soller. 


HOST. 


Just  wait !     No  longer  will  I  call  so. 


4i6  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

SOLLER. 

What  now  ? 

HOST. 

Alcestes  !     Child !    Shall  I  inform  him  also  ? 

SOLLEK. 

No  !  no ! 

HOST. 

If  you  were  hanged,  'twould  be  for  me  much  better ; 
And  that  Alcestes,  too,  with  his  confounded  letter. 

{Exit.) 


Scene  VI. 

SOLLER  {the  very  picture  of  terror). 

What's  this  ?     Alas !     Perchance,  ere   many   minutes 
flee  — 

Take  good  care  of  your  skull !     Your  back  will  cud- 
gelled be. 

P'raps  all  has  been  found  out.     I'm  in  a  burning  fever, 

So  dreadful  is  my  fright.     Why,  Doctor  Paustus  never 

Was  in  so  bad  a  case,  or  Eichard  Crook-back  e'en ! 

Hell  here,  the  gallows  there,  the  cuckold  in  between  ! 
{He  runs  about  like  a  madman,  and  finally  re- 
covers himself) 

One's  never  happy  made  by  stolen  goods,  you  know. 

Go,  coward,  scoundrel,  go !    Why  are  you  frightened  so  ? 

Perchance  'tis  not  so  bad.    I'll  soon  know  how  I'll  fare. 

{He  sees  Alcestes  and  runs  away.) 

Alas !  'tis  he !  'tis  he  !     He'll  seize  me  by  the  hair ! 


THE   FELLOW  CULPRITS  417 


Scene  VII. 

ALCESTES  {fully  dressed,  with  hat  and  sword). 

How  fearful  is  the  blow  by  which  my  heart  oppressed 

is! 
That  wondrous  creature  whom  the  fancy  of  Alcestes 
So  tenderly  the  shrine  of  ev'ry  virtue  thought, 
Who  him  the  highest  grade  of  fairest  love  first  taught, 
In  whom  god,  maiden,  friend,  in  one  were  all  so  blended, 
And  now  so  much  abased !     That  vision  now  is  ended. 
'Tis  well  p'raps  to  descend  a  height  so  superhuman : 
Like  other  women  now,  she's  nothing  but  a  woman ; 
But  then,  so  deep !    so  deep !     That  drives   me  into 

madness. 
My  contumacious  heart  yearns  after  her  with  sadness. 
How  mean  ?    Can'st  thou  not  turn  to  good  account  the 

change  ? 
Seize   on  the   proffer'd   bhss  that    comes    in  form   so 

strange ! 
A  matchless  woman,  whom  you  love  so  very  dearly, 
Needs  cash.     Alcestes,   quick !     The  pence  you  give 

her,  clearly 
Would  turn  to  pounds.     But  now,  the  cash  herself  she 

takes,  — 
'Tis  well !     If  she  once  more  parade  of  virtue  makes, 
Go !  pluck   your   courage   up,  and  speak  thus  in  cold 

blood : 
"  You,    madam,   have    perchance    the    money   taken  ? 

Good! 
I'm  heartily  rejoiced.     Let  no  reserve  be  shown 
In  such  a  small  affair,  but  treat  mine  as  your  own. 
A  confidential  tone,  as  though  'tween  man  and  wife, — 
And  virtue's  self,  if  you  enact  it  to  the  life, 
Won't  be  alarmed,  but  e'en  to  yield  will  soon  incline. 
She  comes !    You  are  confused  ?    'Tis  an  unhappy  sign  ! 


4i8  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

You  guilty  deem  yourself ;  you  cheat  me  in  addition ; 
Your  heart  is  ill-disposed,  but  weak's  your  disposition.^ 


Scene  VIII.  —  Alcestes,  Sophia. 

SOPHIA. 

Alcestes,  what  means  this?     My  sight  you  seem  to 

shim  — 
Has  sohtude  for  you  such  vast  attractions  won  ? 

ALCESTES. 

I  know  not  what  it  is  impels  me  at  this  season : 
We  oft  soliloquise  without  a  special  reason. 

SOPHIA. 

Your  loss  indeed  is  great,  and  well  may  cause  vexation. 

ALCESTES. 

It  nothing  signifies :  I  feel  no  irritation. 

To  lose  a  little  cash  small  self-restraint  demands : 

Who  knows  but  that  it  may  have  fallen  in  good  hands  ? 

SOPHIA. 

No  loss  will  your  kind  heart  allow  on  us  to  fall. 


1  In  the  later  editions,  the  following  five  lines  take  the  place  of 
the  nine  concluding  lines  of  this  scene  : 

"  You  find  yourself  in  need  of  ready  money  ?     Good  ! 
No  secret  of  it  make  !     Let  no  reserve  be  shown 
In  taking  what  is  mine,  but  treat  it  as  yom-  own."  — 
She  comes  !    All  my  false  calm  at  once  has  flown  away. 
You  think  she  took  the  cash,  and  yet  would  say  her  nay. 

E.    A.    B. 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  419 

ALCESTES. 

A  little  openness  this  pain  had  saved  us  all. 

SOPHIA. 

How  must  I  take  this  ? 

ALCESTES  {smiling). 
What? 

SOPHIA. 

What  can  your  meaning  be  ? 

ALCESTES. 

Sophia,  me  you  know  !     Have  confidence  in  me  ! 
The  money's  gone,  and  where  'tis  lying,  let  it  lie  ! 
I  should  have  held  my  tongue,  if  sooner  known  had  I 
That  thus  the  matter  stands  — 

SOPHIA  {astonished). 

You  know,  then,  all  about  it  ? 

ALCESTES    {with    tenderness;    he  seizes   her  hand  and 

kisses  it). 

Your  father !     Yes,  I  know :  my  dearest,  do  not  doubt 
it! 

(SOPHIA  surprised  and  ashamed). 
And  you  forgive  ? 

ALCESTES. 

A  joke,  who'd  deem  it  as  a  crime  ? 

SOPHIA. 

Methinks  — 


420  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

ALCESTES. 

Pray  suffer  me  to  speak  my  mind  this  time. 
Alcestes'  heart  toward  you   with   love's  still  running 

over. 
Fate  severed  you  from  me,  and  yet  I  am  your  lover ; 
Your  heart  is  ever  mine,  as  mine  unchanged  you  find ; 
My  money's  yours  as  though  by  law  assigned ; 
You  have  an  equal  right  to  all  that  I  possess ; 
Take  what  you  will,  if  with  your  love  you  me    will 

bless.     {He  cmhraces  her,  and  she  is  silent.) 
Command  whate'er  you  want!  I'm  quite  prepared  to 

grant  it. 

SOPHIA  (Jiaughtily,  whilst  she  tears  herself  avmy  from 

him). 

I  prize  your  money,  sir !  Indeed,  I  do  not  want  it. 
I  scarcely  understand  a  tone  so  strange  and  fervent. 
Ha  ?     You  mistake  me  — 

ALCESTES  (piqued). 

Oh  !  your  most  obedient  servant 
Knows  you  indeed  too  well ;  and  what  he  wants,  he 

knows, 
And  sees  not  why  your  wrath  thus  suddenly  o'erflows. 
When  one  so  far  goes  wrong  — 

SOPHIA  (astonished). 
Goes  wrong  ?     Pray,  in  what  sense  ? 


ALCESTES. 


Madam ! 


SOPHIA  (angrily). 
What  mean  you,  sir  ? 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  421 

ALCESTES. 

Forgive  my  diffidence. 
I  love  you  far  too  much  to  thiuk  of  telling  it. 

SOPHIA  (with  indignatioTi). 
Alcestes ! 

ALCESTES. 

Well,  then,  ask  papa,  if  you  thiuk  fit ! 
He  knows,  so  seems  it  — 

SOPHIA  {with  an  outhreak  of  vehemence  as  above). 

What  ?     Give  me  an  answer  true  ! 
I  am  not  joking,  sir ! 

ALCESTES. 

He  says  that  it  was  you  — 

SOPHIA  (as  above). 
Well,  what  ? 

ALCESTES. 

That  it  was  you,  —  by  whom  the  cash  was  taken. 

SOPHIA  {with  anger  and  tears,  ivhile  she  turns  atvai/).. 
He  dares  ?     0  God  !     By  shame  so  utterly  forsaken  ! 

ALCESTES  (entreating! I/). 
Sophia ! 

SOPHIA  (turned  away  from  him). 

You're  not  worth  — 

ALCESTES  (as  ttbove). 
Sophia ! 

SOPHIA. 

Leave  the  place ! 


422  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

ALCESTES. 

Pray  pardon  me ! 

SOPHIA. 

Away  !     Forgive  such  conduct  base  ? 
My  father  scruples  not  to  rob  me  of  my  honour ! 
Oh,  poor  Sophia !     Thus  Alcestes  looks  upon  her  ? 
Sooner  than  tell  the  truth,  my  life  I'd  forfeit  rather  — 
But  now  it  must  come  out !  —  The  robber  —  was  my 
father !  {Exit  hastily.) 

Scene   IX. 
Alcestes.     Afterward  Soller. 

ALCESTES. 

Would  I  could  make  it  out !     Here  is  a  pretty  mess ! 
Only  the  Devil  now  this  riddle  strange  can  guess ! 
Two  persons  who  the  best  of  characters  have  had, 
Accuse  each  other !  —  'Tis  enough  to  drive  one  mad. 
No  story  such  as  this  has  ever  reached  my  ears, 
And  yet  I've  known  them  both  for  many,  many  years. 
This  is  a  case  where  thought  no  proper  clue  reveals : 
The  more  one  meditates,  the  greater  fool  one  feels. 
Sophia  !  the  old  man  !     Could  either  of  them  thieve  ? 
Had  Soller  been  accused,  that  well  could  I  believe : 
On  him  could  but  one  spark  of  mere  suspicion  fall ! 
But  he  the  livelong  night,  I  know,  was  at  the  ball. 

SOLLER  {in  his  usual  dress  and  rather  intoxicated). 

There  sits  the  Devil's  imp,  after  his  night-long  revel ! 
Could   I  but  seize  your  neck,  I'd    scrag    you,  master 
DevH! 

ALCESTES  {aside). 

He  comes  as  if  bespoke ! 

{Aloud.')     Well,  Soller,  what's  the  news  ? 


THE  FELLOW   CULPRITS  423 

SOLLER. 

The  noise  the  music  made  has  given  me  the  blues. 

(He  rubs  his  forehead.') 
My  headache's  dreadful. 

ALCESTES. 

You  were  at  the  ball :  were  many 
Ladies  there  too  ? 

SOLLER. 

About  as  usual !     When  there's  any 
Bacon,  the  mice  will  seek  the  trap. 

ALCESTES. 

Was't  merry  ? 

SOLLER. 

Quite ! 

ALCESTES. 

You  danced  ? 

SOLLER. 

I  but  looked  on. 
(Aside.)  At  your  fine  dance  last  night ! 

ALCESTES. 

What !     Soller  did  not  dance  ?     Why,  how  came  that 
about  ? 

SOLLER. 

I  went  there  with  the  full  intention,  there's  no  doubt. 

ALCESTES. 

And  yet  you  didn't  ? 

SOLLER. 

No  !     My  headache  was  so  bad. 
And  so,  for  dancing  not,  a  good  excuse  I  had. 


42  4  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

ALCESTES. 

Indeed ! 

SOLLER. 

And  what  was  worse,  I  found  out  to  my  cost, 
The  more  I  heard  and  saw,  I  sight  and  hearing  lost. 

ALCESTES. 

So  bad  ?     I'm  sorry  for't !     'Twas  quite  a  sudden  fit  ? 

SOLLER. 

Oh,  no !  since  you  first  came  I've  twinges  had  of  it. 
And  longer. 

ALCESTES. 

That  is  strange ! 

SOLLER. 

No  remedy  I  know. 

ALCESTES. 

Your  head  with  warm  cloths  rub :  'twill  put  you  in  a 

glow. 
And  p'raps  you'll  then  be  cured. 

SOLLER  (aside.) 

You're  chaffing  me,  my  friend  ? 
{Aloud)  'Tis  not  such  easy  work. 

ALCESTES. 

'Twill  answer  in  the  end. 
And  yet  you're  rightly  served.    I'll  one  suggestion  make  : 
You  ne'er  by  any  chance  your  poor  wife  with  you  take, 
When  to  a  ball  you  go.     Small  wisdom,  sir,  is  shown, 
In  leaving  a  young  wife  in  her  cold  bed  alone. 


THE   FELLOW  CULPRITS  425 


SOLLER. 


She  likes  to  stop  at  home,  and  let  me  masquerade : 
Well  knows  she  how  to  warm  herself,  without  my  aid. 

ALCESTES. 
That's  funny  ! 

SOLLER. 

Yes !     When  one  is  fond  of  dainty  food, 
One  doesn't  need  a  hint  to  scent  out  what  is  good. 

ALCESTES   (jpiqued). 
Why  all  this  hyperbole  ? 

SOLLER. 

My  meaning's  plain  I  think : 
Exempli  gratia,  I  vastly  like  to  drink 
Father's  old  wine :  but  he  my  taste  for  it  deplores,  — 
He  spares  his  own  ;  and  so  I  drink  it  out  of  doors. 

ALCESTES  {ivith  resentment). 
You'd  best  be  careful,  sir !  — 

SOLLER. 

Most  noble  squire  of  ladies, 
She's  now  my  wife :  to  that,  by  you  no  def'rence  paid  is. 
Her  husband  maybe  deems  she's  something  in  addition. 

ALCESTES    {with  suppressed  anger). 

Fine  husband  !     I  defy  the  slightest  admonition  ; 
And  if  you  should  presume  a  single  word  to  say  — 

SOLLER   {frightened.     Aside). 

How  fine  !     The  end  will  be,  that  I   must  ask  him, 
Pray 


426  THE   FELLOW  CULPRITS 

How  virtuous  is  she  ? 

(Aloud.)     My  hearth  is  still  my  hearth, 
Despite  strange  cooks ! 

ALCESTES. 

Beside  your  wife,  how  small  your  worth  ! 
So  virtuous  and  fair  !     A  soul  of  purity  ! 
What  matchless  dower  she  brought !     A  very  angel  she  ! 

SOLLEE. 

Her  blood,  too,  as  I've  found,  has    much   expansive 

power  : 
Head-ornaments  for  me  were  also  in  her  dower. 
For  such  a  wife  was  I  predestinated  found, 
And  e'en  before  my  birth  was  as  a  cuckold  crowned. 

ALCESTES    (breaking  out). 
Now,  Soller ! 

SOLLER    (^impertinently'). 

Well,  what  now  ? 

ALCESTES  (restraining  himself). 

I  tell  you,  hold  your  peace  ! 

SOLLER. 

I'd  like  to  see  the  man  who'd  make  my  talking  cease ! 

ALCESTES. 

If  place  allowed,  you'd  get  a  proper  castigation ! 

SOLLER  (half  aloud). 
He'd  fight  a  duel  for  my  wife's  good  reputation ! 

ALCESTES. 

Indeed ! 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  427 

SOLLER  {as  hefore). 
No  mortal  knows  so  well,  how  lies  the  land. 

ALCESTES. 

The  deuce ! 

SOLLER. 

Alcestes,  we  perceive  how  matters  stand. 
Now  wait !  just  wait  a  bit !  The  subject  we'll  pursue ; 
And  we  shall  understand  how  gentlemen  like  you 
The  corn-fields  for  themselves  will  reap,  yes,  ev'ry  one, 
And  for  the  husbands  leave  the  gleanings,  when  they've 
done. 

ALCESTES. 

I  wonder  much  that  you  should  be  so  bold,  sir,  know- 


ing- 


SOLLER. 


Full  oftentimes  my  eyes  with  tears  are  overflowing : 
Each  day  I  feel  as  though  I'm  sniffing  onions. 

ALCESTES  (angrily  and  resolutely). 

How? 
You  go  too  far  !     Speak  out !     Explain  your  meaning 

now! 
Your  tongue  to  loosen  I  shall  be  compelled,  I  ween. 

SOLLER  (boldly). 
I  have  a  right,  methinks,  to  know  what  I  have  seen. 

ALCESTES. 

Seen  ?     What  does  seeing  mean  ? 

SOLLER. 

It  means,  what  we  discover 
When  we  both  see  and  hear. 


428  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

ALCESTES. 

Ha! 

SOLLER. 

Why  with  wrath  boil  over  ? 

ALCESTES  {loith  the  most  determined  anger), 

"What  have  you  heard  ?     What  seen  ?     Eeply  without 
delay ! 

SOLLER  (^frightened,  trying  to  go  away). 
Allow  me,  my  good  sir ! 

ALCESTES   (holding  him  hack). 
Where  go  you  ? 

SOLLER. 

Eight  away  ! 

ALCESTES. 

You  shall  not  leave  this  spot ! 

SOLLER  {aside). 

I  would  the  man  were  dead ! 

ALCESTES. 

What  have  you  heard  ? 

SOLLER. 

I  ?     Nought !     'Twas  only  what  they  said  ! 

ALCESTES  (with  angry  impetuosity'). 
Who  was  the  man  ? 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  429 

SOLLER. 

The  man  ?     A  man  — 

ALCESTES  {more  violenthj  and  attacking  him). 

Be  quick  !     Begin  ! 

SOLLER  (m  anguish). 

Who  saw  it  with  his  eyes. 

Qlore  holdlg.)  I'll  call  the  servants  in. 

ALCESTES  (seizing  him  hy  the  neck). 
Who  was  it  ? 

SOLLER  {trying  to  tear  himself  loose). 
What  ?     The  deuce  ! 

ALCESTES  (holding  him  more  firmly). 

No  more  my  temper  try  ! 
{Draiving  his  sword.) 
Who  is  the  wicked  wretch  ?  the  rogue  ?  the  liar  ? 

SOLLER  (falling  on  his  knees  in  his  terror). 

I! 

ALCESTES  (threateningly). 

What  did  you  see  ? 

SOLLER  (timidly). 

I  saw  what  proves  that  we're  but  human : 
You,  sir,  are  but  a  man  ;  Sophia  is  a  woman. 

ALCESTES  (as  ahove). 
And  then  ? 


43°  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

SOLLEE. 

Precisely  what  we  see  in  each  direction, 
When  men  and  women  have  reciprocal  affection, 

ALCESTES. 

And  that's  ?  — 

SOLLER. 

I  should  have  thought  you'd  know  by  intuition. 

ALCESTES. 

Well? 

SOLLER. 

Surely  you'll  not  dare  to  scout  the  supposition. 

ALCESTES. 

Indeed  !     More  plainly  speak ! 

SOLLER. 

Release  me !     Oh,  pray  do  ! 

ALCESTES  {still  as  above). 
It's  called  ?     The  Devil ! 

SOLLER. 

Well,  it's  called  a  rendezvous. 

ALCESTES  (startled). 
You  lie ! 

SOLLER  (aside). 

He's  frightened  now. 

ALCESTES  (aside). 

How  could  he  know  it  e'er  ? 
(Re  sheathes  his  sword.) 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  431 

SOLLER  (ciside). 
Take  courage  ! 

ALCESTES  {aside). 

Who  betrayed  that  we  together  were  ? 

{Recovering  himself.) 
What  mean  you  by  your  words  ? 

SOLLER  {insolently). 

We'll  now  make  all  things  pleasant. 
The  comedy  last  night !     I  happened  to  be  present. 

ALCESTES  {astonished). 
Where  ?  > 

SOLLER. 

In  the  closet. 

ALCESTES. 

Oh !  you  thus  were  at  your  ball ! 

SOLLER. 

And  you  were  at  your  feast !  Without  one  drop  of  gall, 
Two  words  :  though  secret  plans  you  gentry  may  pursue, 
Be  sure  that  by  and  by  they'll  be  exposed  to  view. 

ALCESTES. 

It's  clear  that  you're  the  thief.    I'd  sooner  have  a  raven 
Or  jackdaw  in  my  house,  than  such  a  wicked  craven 
As  you  !     For  shame,  bad  man ! 

SOLLER. 

I'm  bad,  I  must  confess ; 
But  then  you  gentlemen  are  always  right,  I  guess ! 
Our  property  you  think  to  handle  at  your  pleasure : 
No  laws  you  keep,  but  deal  to  us  another  measure. 
The  principle's  the  same  :  some  woman  love,  some  gold. 
If  you  would  hang  us,  let  your  passions  be  controlled ! 


432  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

ALCESTES. 

You're  very  impudent  — 

SOLLER. 

I'm  impudent,  no  doubt : 
In  truth,  it  is  no  joke  with  horns  to  go  about. 
In  short,  we  mustn't  make  the  thing  a  cause  of  strife : 
'Twas  I  who  took  your  cash,  and  you  who  took  my  wife. 

ALCESTES  {threateningly). 
What  took  I  ? 

SOLLER. 

Nothing,  sir !     It  long  had  been  your  own, 
Before  'twas  mine. 

ALCESTES. 

If  — 

SOLLER. 

I  must  leave  the  thing  alone. 

ALCESTES. 

The  gallows  for  the  thief ! 

SOLLER. 

Is  it  unknown  to  you 
That  stringent  laws  provide  for  other  people  too  ? 

ALCESTES. 

Soller ! 

SOLLER  (makes  a  sign  of  beheading). 

Yes :  there's  the  axe,  if  you  indulge  your  passions  — 


THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS  433 

ALCESTES. 

Are  you  an  expert,  theu,  and  understand  the  fashions  ? 
You'll  certainly  be  hanged,  or  (logged  in  any  case. 

SOLLER  {pointing  to  Ids  forehead). 
I'm  branded  as  it  is,  / 


Scene  X.  —  The  Above.     TJie  Host,  Sophia. 

SOPHIA  {at  the  bottom,  of  the  stage). 

His  accusations  base 
My  father  still  maintains. 

HOST  {at  the  bottom  of  the  stage). 

My  daughter  still  won't  yield. 

SOPHIA. 

There  is  Alcestes ! 

HOST  {seeing  alcestes). 
Ha! 

SOPHIA. 

The  truth  will  be  revealed. 

HOST    {to    ALCESTES). 

She  is  the  thief,  good  sir ! 

SOPHIA   {on  the  other  side). 

The  thief,  sir,  there  you  see  ! 


434  THE   FELLOW   CULPRITS 

ALCESTES  (looks  at  them  loth  laughingly,  and  then  says 
in  the  same  tone  as  they,  pointing  to  SOLLEK). 

He  is  the  thief ! 

SOLLEK  (aside). 

Alas  for  my  poor  skin ! 


SOPHIA. 

He? 

HOST. 

He? 

ALCESTES. 

You  are  both  innocent :  'tis  he  ! 

HOST. 

I'd  run  a  nail 
With  pleasure  through  his  head  ! 

SOPHIA. 

You? 

SOLLER  (aside). 

Thunderbolts  and  hail ! 


I'd  like 


HOST. 


ALCESTES. 


Be  patient,  sir :  your  wrath  is  ill-directed. 
Although  she  guiltless  was,  Sophia  was  suspected. 
She  came  to  visit  me.     The  step  was  bold,  'tis  true ; 
Yet  for  her  virtue  I  — 
(To  SoLLER.)     But  you  were  present  too! 

(Sophia  is  astonished.) 
To  us  was  this  unknown :  propitious  was  the  night. 
Her  virtue  — 


THE   FELLOW   CULPRITS  435 

SOLLER. 

There  it  was  I  had  a  pretty  fright. 

ALCESTES  {to  the  HOST). 

But  you  ? 

HOST. 

Sir,  I  was  there  from  curiosity ; 
That  cursed  letter  I  so  anxious  was  to  see. 
I  wonder,  sir,  that  you  such  conduct  manifested ! 
That  fine  godfather's  trick  I  have  not  yet  digested. 

ALCESTES. 

Excuse  the  jest !     And  you,  Sophia,  faithful  wife  — 
Will  surely  pardon  me  ? 

SOPHIA. 

Alcestes ! 

ALCESTES. 

Ne'er  in  life 
Your  virtue  will  I  doubt.     Forgive  that  rendezvous ! 
As  virtuous  as  good  — 

SOLLER. 

I  half  believe  it  too  ! 

ALCESTES  {to  SOPHIA). 

And  also  you'll  forgive  our  Seller  ? 

SOPHIA. 

Willingly ! 
{She  gives  him  her  hand.) 
There ! 


43^  THE  FELLOW  CULPRITS 

ALCESTES  {to  the  HOST). 


Allans ! 


HOST  (gives  sollek  his  hand). 
Steal  no  more ! 

SOLLER. 

What's  distant,  time  brings  nigh ! 

ALCESTES. 

But  Where's  my  money  now  ? 

SOLLER. 

I  took  it  in  my  trouble : 
That   gamester   plagued    me   till    he  nearly  bent  me 

double. 
I  knew  not  what  to  do ;  I  stole,  and  paid  the  debt : 
And  now  I'll  give  you  back  the  dollars  left  me  yet. 

ALCESTES. 

I'll  give  you  what  is  spent. 

SOLLER. 

Now  aU  has  come  out  right. 

ALCESTES. 

I  only  hope  you'll  grow  quite  honest,  staid,  pohte  ! 
And  if  you  ever  dare  again  with  me  to  palter !  — 

SOLLER. 

So  be  it !  —  For  this  once,  we've  all  escaped  the  halter. 

THE    END. 


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